Walpurgis Night at Phantomhive
by Eilike
Summary: Sebastian presides a heathen spring celebration and is having a ball, leaving Ciel to deal with mythical creatures and a strange ritual, called the "Greeting of the Sun". Will both, demon and human, live to see the light of May, 1st?
1. The Hawthorn Court

Hi there. I don't believe it's been three months since I finished my last fanfic. Now, the time for a springtime-story has come. Hope, you enjoy. :)

Once again, I draw on folklore for basic motifs. You'll meet a lot of mythical creatures, which I use rather freely. There are no 'hog-goblins', but once I had come up with them, the word applied so nicely. Also, as far as I know, there is no 'Hawthorn Lord' ritual. Again, I just liked the word. :) Oh, and 'goolie' is supposed to be an Australian word for 'stone'. I don't know, if this is correct or even, if it's common knowledge. But it's only a minor detail, so I decided to just 'go for it' :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel and/or any other characters of the series. I hold no rights whatsoever to Kuroshitsuji/"Black Butler", and I do not make money from this.

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><p>+++Chapter 1: The Hawthorn Court (or: 'Do we have a basilisk around here?')+++<p>

Sebastian had formed their contract according to Ciel's wishes. But there was a footnote. It said that on one particular night each springtime, the Phantomhive butler would not be available. No questions were to be asked. No explanations would be offered. Sebastian would serve his young master faithfully all throughout dinner and early evening schedules.

But as soon as the sun set behind the trees, he'd pack in and leave.

Thus it had been on every April, 30th. Thus it would be kept today.

Once again it was the last of April, the sun had begun to sink, and Mey-Rin was beside herself.

She'd bolted into Ciel's study, eager to report that Sebastian was outside and talking to a crow. Only it wasn't a crow. It had landed on the butler's outstretched hand, a big black bird. But then it had transformed into a dark haired woman. A _naked_ dark haired woman, who'd talked to Sebastian, before she put her hands on his shoulders and quickly kissed him on the cheek. It didn't matter that he'd immediately put some distance between them. It didn't matter that Mey-Rin had been too far away to eavesdrop, cleaning her duster on the balcony. The Phantomhive maid had taken off her glasses to make use of her far-sighted eyes, and she knew, what she'd seen.

'And that woman, she was dark haired, and _naked_, and she _kissed him_!'

Ciel sat behind his desk, idly toying with miniature soldiers. Now he looked up quizzically. 'Are you jealous? She was just a bird.'

'But he was _talking_ to her,' said Mey-Rin, wondering if she got her point across.

'It′s his night off,' said Ciel, turning back to his toys. 'He can do whatever he likes.'

Slowly, it occurred to Mey-Rin that her news wasn't making the impact she'd hoped for. Her shoulders drooped in defeat. 'Then – then I'll just return to cleaning my duster?'

'Yes, Mey-Rin.' Ciel wasn't even looking at the maid anymore. 'Tell the others I won't be disturbed. I have some serious work to do.'

He expected her to slam the door. But she closed it quietly.

Ciel looked at his toy soldier, then put it on the table with a bang and pushed back his chair. Did Mey-Rin think he wasn't eaten by curiosity? Did she really think, he hadn't investigated, because he honestly felt that Sebastian should be left alone on his 'day off'?

The only problem that Ciel had ever had to face in this matter was that it took Sebastian's abilities to stalk a demon. Ciel had realised that much, when he tried to tail his butler in their first year and almost got himself lost in the nightly woods.

But now, there was another supernatural creature in the household.

As usual, Pluto lay outside, waiting for someone to come and relieve his canine ennui. Hearing Ciel's window being opened, the hell hound sat up expectantly. He yawned, making a whimpering noise in his throat, stretched and wagged his tail.

'Ready for a little walk, are you?' Ciel smiled smugly. 'I'll be with you in a second. Just let me put on my riding gear.'

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><p>Fifteen minutes later, Pluto was in his dog-shape and trotting with his nose to the ground through the woods that bordered on Phantomhive Manor. He was supposed to follow Sebastian's scent, and Ciel followed him. The earl had chosen his best stallion for this hunt, a reliable, strong horse that even Ciel's demanding aunt had once found praising words for.<p>

Darkness filled the space between trees, but Pluto's white fur gleamed like a guiding beacon. They had been on their way for about half an hour, when Pluto gave a little yelp and quickened his pace.

'No! Heel!' hissed Ciel.

The hell hound desperately pretended not to hear.

'Pluto!'

Pluto stopped.

'Down, Pluto. Down.'

Ciel got off his horse and moved towards the faint light he could make out in the distance. He could hear voices and strange swishing and flapping sounds. He was creeping slightly uphills now, which gave him a good idea as to his location. There was only one remarkable hill in the woods behind Phantomhive manor. That hill had been razed by a storm last autumn. Most of the trees had been broken, and Ciel had sent a team of woodworkers to fell the damaged rest.

Ciel peeped out from behind the brambles and shubbery that grew at the edge of the forest – and his eyes widened.

The clearing was full of people, men and women, dressed in all kinds of styles and colours. Some of them wore ritual gowns, some looked like servants or dock workers. A handful of dandies seemed to have taken the wrong turn and strolled in directly from Oxford Street. There were costumes from India and China, some ladies wearing crinolines and hair-dos like straight out of a history book on pre-revolutionary France. There even was a delegation of Venetians in heavy brocade coats, rimmed with gold and richly embroidered. Their beaked masks caused Ciel a slight uneasy feeling, but there were even stranger and terribly realistic animal masks and small furry things, probably masked children, flitting between the groups.

It was a carnival, bizarre and imaginative and scary in the way that sometimes a clown will fill the hearts of his audience with terror, in spite of his drolleries.

They had lit camp fires and torches, but there was a great stack of wood prepared for a real bonfire. Somewhat to his right, Ciel spotted a dais with a large chair. It had a high back and broad armrests, but no cushion, so it was probably not very comfortable to sit on.

All this, Ciel took in with a few sweeping glances. Then, his eyes rested on the center of the noise that had led his way. What he saw, was this: Three woman screaming and flogging a poor bugger, who was crouched on the ground, making himself small. As far as Ciel could see, they were using brambles for whips. He also didn't fail to notice the mythical aspect of the three furies: a withered crone, a woman in her thirties and a girl of seventeen, maybe eighteen years. She had ashen coloured hair, much like Ciel's own, and she made a real point of beating the living daylight out of her squirming victim. A dark clad man, whose face was covered with a lace mask, stood by, holding a silver chalice and watching.

The girl's whip hit home: The thorny tendril got entangled in the victim's hair, causing him to clutch at the strands.

Ciel recognised the hand immediately.

_What did Sebastian think, he was doing, getting himself flogged like this?_

The girl lashed again. This time, the thorns apparently ripped through the demon's skin: The bystanders heaved a collective sigh. 'Blood,' someone said, and the word was passed on in a reverent whisper. The three women broke into shrill laughter and redoubled their efforts. Ciel prepared to call Sebastian through their contract. It might not be the wisest of actions, but it was the only one he could think of. Pluto was only a couple of yards downhill, so maybe, if Sebastian was not too badly wounded, they could -

'Stay your hands, ladies!' That was the masked man speaking. He stepped forward and raised his hand imperiously. The three women backed off. Ciel expected the masked man to grab Sebastian and pull him up, but no such thing happened. The ceremonial master merely watched as the demon feebly got to his hands and knees. Then, he addressed him. He spoke very loud, and the assembled crowds were very quiet, so as not to miss a single word: 'Demon! Beast of Night and Darkness Incarnate! Do you hear my voice and understand what my words mean to convey?'

'I hear your voice. I understand the meaning of your words.' That was Sebastian, speaking just as loud, in spite of his obvious weakness. He still did not raise his head.

'Do you know of the Ritual of May, 1st, the Holding of Court, the Greeting of Light? Do you know the duty of Him, who Welcomes the Sun, as spring is reborn?' The grandeur of the ceremonial master made it easy for Ciel to imagine the capital letters.

'I know my duty. I will honour the ritual, hold the court, greet the light,' promised Sebastian.

'Be our Hawthorn Lord, body and blood?

'Life and soul, I will.'

The master of ceremony bowed and offered Sebastian the chalice. The demon took it and sipped. When he looked up, the master of ceremony shrank back. Sebastian pretended not to notice.

'Now then,' he said quietly, handing back the chalice. 'A servant should not keep secrets in front of his master. What's your name, human?'

'But that's not part of the ritual.'

'Your name,' said the demon. 'And your face. Get a move on and _get that mask off_.'

The ceremonial master's mask began to slip as the string undid itself. Reluctant, the man revealed his face.

Ciel gasped. He couldn't suppress it. _The Viscount Druitt!_

'I'm the Viscou-'

'Your title is of no import, human.'

'My name's Aleister,' muttered the Viscount Druitt. He looked scared and very far from his usual florid style.

Ciel could not see Sebastian's smile, but he just knew it was there. When the demon got up, it became clear that he had dropped every pretense of being a butler – or human, at that. His black suit was shiny and tight, his heels high, and his bearing casual in an offensive way. The playful poise of standing leg and free leg suggested that gravity was a practical joke, nature dared play on other people only. The viscount's reaction gave reason to expect sparkling red eyes and maybe fangs, even if Ciel couldn't see them from the distance.

The three women seemed more at ease with their strange master than his own lackey. Reverently, they guided Sebastian up the dais. The crone handed him a staff with a ram′s skull, and the matron put a wreath of bramble on his head.

'Behold,' called the Viscount Druitt, trying hard to control his wobbly voice. 'Your Hawthorn Lord.'

'Your lord?' breathed Ciel, as the crowd cheered. '_My butler!_'

_On his night off. And back to demon shape._

'Gosh, Viscount, what did you _do_?' asked Ciel, addressing the moss under his hands. 'Do you wish for death so badly?'

'Beats me,' said Sebastian in Ciel's back. 'Do you, young master? One might almost think so...'

Ciel looked up: The viscount and the women were alone on the dais and looking quite confused.

Ciel whipped round.

Sebastian winked at him with a gleaming red eye and smiled a toothy smile.

Ciel had meant to tell him a lot of things, none of them very friendly and all of them culminating in one order: 'I don't care about footnotes! Get your tailsuit back on and your hide back to Phantomhive! Now!'

All that came out was, 'Look forward, you moron!'

Sebastian was standing between the earl and a group of six creatures with grey furred faces, big noses and wide mouths. Tusks grew from their lower jaws. They wore ragged clothes, walked on two legs and held spears that were crudely designed from sticks and stone.

It was clear that they had planned to ambush Ciel, and equally plain they had almost succeeded.

'I will have no hog-goblins on this assembly,' Sebastian told them now.

'Beg your pardon, we wasn′t going to join the gathering,' said one of the creatures. 'We′s on the hunt for meat.'

'Meat,' the others echoed, closing in and casting hungry glances at Ciel.

'Maybe I haven't made myself clear enough.' Sebastian's sneer resounded dangerously in his voice as he moved a little to block their view. 'You ′was′ supposed to leave. Go and find a compost heap. Enough grub for all of you.'

'You wants us to eat grubs?'

'I don't care what you eat, as long as it's not this human.' Sebastian sidestepped gracefully, just as Ciel felt something large and heavy break through the shrubbery above his head and ducked. The monster appeared like the demon's thoughts turned into blazing eyes and muscle and murderous teeth. It grabbed the frontmost creature on touching down and already leapt again, dragging it off into the dark.

'That,' said Sebastian, speaking up to be heard above the sounds of breaking bones and squealing and fleeing hog-goblins, 'was a werewolf. One of them anyway.' He bent down, seized Ciel's shoulders and put the earl to his feet. 'If I may say so, young master, your defenseless presence has already attracted a lot of attention.'

'Werewolves?' Ciel craned his neck, as three more wolf-shaped hunters streaked past. Sebastian regarded his young master thoughtfully and oblivious to the drama in the background. He put his hand to his chin, thinking some more. Then, he removed Ciel′s eye patch and shook it with a quick, jerky movement. It turned into a ritual mask, which he pulled over Ciel′s head. Now, the better part of the earl′s face was covered, with only his eyes – both of them - showing from behind the black lace.

'There,' said Sebastian, looking satisfied. 'No one will recognise you now.'

'Wait! You′re not going to carry me into this circle of lunatics?' Ciel struggled, as he was picked up. Sebastian's smile vanished. 'I don't see I have a choice. Your indignant breathing has already alerted half of my court.'

Ciel's temper flared at the rebuke. 'Your court? You preside over a court? By whose authority?'

'By the authority of being a demon. The seat of the Hawthorn Lord is always taken by one of my kind. It′s tradition as much as it′s an honour and a responsibility.' Sebastian prepared to leap. 'By the way, let's not have them our names, young master. This assembly will dissolve after daybreak. People will be on their way back to their realms, or stories, or everyday lives. We wouldn't want them to stop over at Phantomhive, hunting for souvenirs.'

Before Ciel could answer, Sebastian leaped, easily covering the height of the hedge. All eyes turned their direction. Some of them didn't have to turn very far, since they'd apparently known all along, where to look. Aleister rushed to meet them. 'Mylord, I apologise! Please, allow me to - '

He stopped, seeing the pentagram in Ciel's eye. There was a rustle of surprise and some gasping. Sebastian put Ciel down, then raised his hand, showing the assembly the corresponding sign.

'He belongs to me,' he stated, just in case someone missed to make the connection. Ciel felt like an important statement had been made. If someone had secretly harboured the idea of questioning the demon's authority, this was the moment. It was probably easy to cause trouble, pointing out that this assembly would not accept a ruler, who protected a human.

The moment passed. No one spoke up.

Sebastian walked to the dais and ascended the steps. Ciel followed closely.

'I hate being introduced as someone's property,' he muttered.

'Yet, you're mine,' the demon simply said. 'And I wouldn't recommend any of them to put it to the test.' Sebastian stood on the dais and overlooked the audience. 'Now, let's see who's haunting this place tonight? We've got humans, no doubt.'

The humans cheered.

'Spirits of nature?'

The noise changed. It sounded like water on pebbles, like ice cracking, wood creaking, wind blowing. Ciel looked up to see a branch overheard, shaking and rustling its young leaves.

'I've already seen the werewolves.'

Howling. More howling.

One howling voice rising above the chorus, plaintive, urging.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. 'Yes. And one hell hound.'

Pluto was beside himself with joy at being talked to.

Sebastian reached out and placed a hand on Ciel's shoulder. 'Message for the canine section: Stay away from my ward. - The Kelpie?'

No response.

Sebastian turned to the Viscount Druitt, who hurriedly flipped through a handwritten list. 'Gone to ... meet a black stallion that's been seen in the woods, it says here.'

'That's my horse,' said Ciel, worried. 'What's a kelpie? What does it do to horses?'

'Nothing the stallion won't be extremely fond of,' Sebastian said, shrugging. 'But I am not pleased with the lady's behaviour, so - do we have a basilisk around here?'

They had two, in fact. They were iguana-like creatures, each of the size of a full grown alligator. Their heads were beaked and feathered, their eyes blindfolded. Ciel remembered having heard about the petrifying gaze of these creatures.

'Go, find the Kelpie,' Sebastian told them.

The basilisks made excited, clucking sounds, and huddled as if they were conferring. One of them spoke up. 'My lord, the Kelpie cannot be detected by our magical senses.'

'Then _use your eyes_,' said Sebastian wickedly.

I wasn't possible for basilisks to grin, but these two actually looked like they did. They moved like alligators, swinging their bodies in an S-shape as their short, scaly legs pushed forward. The crowd parted to let them pass. Ciel still failed to remember what a kelpie was, but he almost felt sorry for her.

Sebastian continued to call up the creatures present in the audience: pixies and brownies, gnomes and boggarts and half a dozen other species, Ciel had only ever heard about in folklore. Finally, he asked in general, 'Is there any creature, mythical, magical or out-of-this-world in any other way, that hasn't as yet been formally addressed?'

A small bundle hobbled up to the dais. It looked like a bulk of weathered and grey stone. It had very short, crooked legs, bat wings and a horned monster's face.

'And what would you be?' asked Sebastian, even though the answer was quite obvious.

'I'm a gargoyle, mylord.' The creature's voice sounded like sunken tombstones grating against each other in the midnight hour. Grating timidly, so as not to disturb anyone's slumber.

'Please understand that I don't mean to be offensive,' said Sebastian. 'But aren't you supposed to be attached to some old and venerable building, growing moss and gurgling rain water?'

'I was, mylord. But there was that thunder storm, only a fortnight ago, and lightening struck my tower. Next thing I know, I'm tumbling down in an avalanche of debris. I was lucky I didn't break, when I hit the ground.'

Ciel remembered the stormy night of two weeks ago. His butler had closed all shutters, gathered his master and the servants in Ciel's study and made them kneel around a burning candle. Sebastian had made a point that no one take their eyes off the little flame, as he stood by the door, warily scanning the gloom beyond the flickering circle of light.

'There's something lurking in the heart of every darkness,' Sebastian had simply said, when Ciel asked what he was on the look-out for.

At that time, Ciel had thought that his butler was a trifle overdoing his precautions. Now, he was not sure anymore. The storm had obviously brought about strange effects. One of them was squatted in front of Ciel, looking forlorn and miserable, as if the incident had been its fault.

Ciel beckoned Sebastian to bow his head, and whispered in the demon's ear, 'You know, he looks like his proper name was Goolie. Get it? Ghoul-ee.'

Sebastian's eyes flared. 'No! Don't name it!'

But the unhappy gargoyle's grey face had already lit up. 'Thank you!' Moving surprisingly quick, it jumped on to the dais and wrapped its cold, stony arms around Ciel's knees. 'Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou!'

'Hey! Don't touch me so easily! Hey!' Ciel turned to Sebastian for help. 'What got into him? Get him off!'

'Too late. Remember: If a human gives a name to one of the supernatural...'

'The bond is sealed. But I thought this only worked with demons!'

'I'm sort of glad to hear you're only ignorant. Otherwise, I might have suspected you of planning to start a collection of us.' Sebastian turned to the audience. 'With even the last young gargoyle properly named and claimed, I declare tonight's court to be opened.'

More torches lit up. Sebastian returned to his seat of honour.

'Let me go!' Ciel hopped and pried and shoved. 'Ouch! Can't you – find – a roof to attach yourself and – ouch! – wait for rain?'

'Oh yes!' The gargoyle unwrapped its limbs. 'I'd love to do that, master.'

'Yeah, well, don't let me keep you.'

Goolie whispered, 'It's just that...could you toss me in the air?'

'_What?_'

'Oh, I'll be all right,' assured Goolie. 'My wings work fine, once I'm airborne. I just have problems taking off...'

'Allow me,' said a giant man, who was just passing by. He had a wild beard and arms that reached down to his knees. He grabbed Goolie and tossed him in the air like a tennis ball. The gargoyle tumbled and flapped, then he caught himself and waved. 'Thank you!'

'You're welcome,' said the giant, but he spoke to Ciel. When he smiled, he revealed teeth the size of battle axes.

'Excuse me,' said the Viscount Druitt. 'Mylord asks you to join him on the dais.'

Ciel hadn't noticed the youth approaching, but now he was happy for the intervention. He looked up and met Sebastian's eyes. The demon raised his finger in a 'tut-tut' gesture. Ciel frowned, then he realised that it was aimed at the giant, who was already pushing back into the crowd. Mustering his aristocratic dignity, Ciel ascended the steps, wondering if this was the opportune moment to ask for a chair of his own. He decided that it wasn't and sat on the armrest of Sebastian's makeshift throne.

'Is it just me?' he asked, trying to sound casual. 'Or is half of your court out to get me?'

'They are,' said Sebastian. 'I really wish you hadn't come to this place. I will have such a hard time, fulfilling my role and protecting you.'

'Then help me protect myself. Tell me about your role,' said Ciel, indicating Sebastian to pass him the chalice for inspection. 'How long are you going to play the Sun King? And if this is a game, how do you play?'

Sebastian held the chalice up. 'The ceremony will last till daybreak. I'll pass verdicts, host the celebration and at sunrise, I′ll welcome the day that marks the beginning of a new year.'

'Faugh! What's that?' Ciel sniffed and refused the strange-smelling drink.

'I don't know. It kills the pain, so I drink it.' Sebastian looked in the chalice. 'However, I've been told that it makes humans believe, they could fly on broomsticks. Maybe you _should_ have Aleister get you something else.'

Ciel nodded. 'So, I know about your duties. What am I supposed to do?'

'Worship me.'

'Ha. Ha,' Ciel stated drily. 'But seriously?'

'I am being serious,' said Sebastian and at this moment, Ciel could actually see his butler shining through the demon's concerned expression. 'Ciel, I simply ask you to accept my status and my role in this ceremony. Or, to put it in other words: Don't act the earl around here!'

'So you can pull off this lord-thing?'

'No. So you avoid getting in trouble.' The moment was past, the red eyes lit up expectantly. 'Look! Our lackey is introducing the first trial.'

'Trial?' wondered Ciel, as the Viscount Druitt approached the throne.

'Mylord? The noble dame Hesrabe has come from far to bring her issue before you. What is your faithful squire to tell her?'

Sebastian replied without hestitating. 'Tell her that she has not come in vain. The Hawthorn Lord will hear her case.'

_First note,_ thought Ciel. _This is all about ritual. Question and answer, address and reply. The pace is set. Now, I wonder, what this ′dame′ has to try. And why, for heaven′s sake, is she invoking a demon for a judge and not appealing to Her Majesty's jurisdiction ?_

The ′dame′ Hesrabe didn′t look noble at all. She was a rather ragged hag, crooked with age and with a yellow, wrinkled face. She hobbled before Sebastian′s throne and presented the pelt of an apparently long-dead sheep.

'Mylord, I ask for justice,' she said. 'This sheep was mine. I raised it, I fed it, I sheltered it in order to obtain its wool. But she - ' Hesrabe pointed at a red-haired woman among the spectators, who stood with her arms crossed and a sardonical smirk on her lips, 'she stole it and killed it. All I found was the wool, wet and dirty and useless. I spent a long, cold winter. Now I appeal to your justice, mylord.'

'Your sheep was white, as I can see?' asked Sebastian.

'Yes, mylord, and woolly and warm...'

'I don′t like white sheep,' Sebastian said. 'Breed a black one, and if that is killed, too, you may bring your case before me again.'

Hesrabe repeated her accusation, pointing at the sneering woman in the first row, 'But she killed it!'

'That's minus one white sheep in this whole wide world,' said Sebastian. 'I don′t like white sheep. And I extremely dislike having to repeat myself.'

Hesrabe looked as if she still wanted to object, but Aleister gently seized her arm and led her away. The shrill laughter of her adversary accompanied her to the back of the crowd.

Ciel straigthened up. Sebastian inclined his head so that his young master could whisper in his ear.

'How could you hand down such a verdict?' asked Ciel. 'You didn′t even ask one decent question!'

Sebastian sipped his drink. 'Like what?'

'Well, the other woman′s name, for a start. And details, concerning the theft. _If_ theft it was! For all we know, this sheep could′ve broken a leg and perished and got eaten by foxes and badgers. But those two women surely bear a grudge for each other.'

'Yes,' said Sebastian, sipping some more. 'But the defendant was more attractive, don't you think?'

'What kind of argument is that?' hissed Ciel.

Sebastian simply smiled, as if there were things, he knew. There probably were. But Ciel just hated being patronised by someone who clinked his teeth against the rim of his chalice, every time he drank.

_If he starts shaking his head, I'll strangle him,_ Ciel thought. _If he sips that terrible concoction again, while I talk to him, I'll strangle him._

_I believe, I'll end up trying to strangle him, whatever this night is going to bring. Might as well start right away._

But in spite of this train of murderous thought, Ciel jumped, when Sebastian sat up straight and gripped his staff. Ciel followed his gaze and gasped.

Aleister had brought the next trial before them. It was not a witch, nor a stone-skinned, tusked or beaked mythical creature. It rather looked like a confused, tousled and scared maid with large round glasses askew on her nose.

+++End of Chapter 1+++


	2. Controlling the Crazies

Another chapter, and again it's *long*. The problem with this story is that it feels like writing about a crazy roller coaster ride in some fantasy theme park (with fireworks) and it's difficult to find a decent opportunity to stop. I seldom know in advance, what the characters are going to do, but this time they're just - doing something different each time I get back to them. Aargh! *Somebody please tie Sebastian to his chair and _gag him_!* :)

The quotation, Sebastian uses to answer the bogeyman, is one of Mephisto's lines from Goethe (Faust, Part 1). Mephisto rules! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, Grell and/or any other characters of the series. I hold no rights whatsoever to Kuroshitsuji/"Black Butler", and I do not make money from this.

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><p>+++Chapter 2: Controlling the Crazies (or: "You know, she's a fairy? One of the thirteenth kind?")<p>

'May Rin! What are you doing here?' Ciel rose to his feet, watching the basilisks move up beside the maid. Their eyes were blindfolded, but they were still an alarming sight. Ciel felt Sebastian brush past. The demon's hand briefly touched his shoulder, telling him to stay out of trouble.

May-Rin squinted and shied away from the dark shape in front of her. Sebastian put one ram horn of his staff under her chin and raised her head.

'How did you get here?' he whispered.

May-Rin made a small, whimpering sound. 'I was looking for Sebastian.'

'She bumped right into us,' said one of the basilisks. 'It's extraordinary, mylord. She's the first human in more than twelve centuries to withstand our petrifying gaze.'

'I guess that's because she's so extraordinarily far-sighted.' Sebastian turned away. 'Aleister. Keep her somewhere safe. I'll deal with her later.'

The viscount scratched his head. 'Safe? But - '

'Do I have to repeat myself?' asked Sebastian crossly.

'No, no. But - '

'Mylord? A word with you?' The voice that addressed Sebastian on his way back to Ciel felt like fog condensing on the inside of the listerner's skull. All of a sudden, Ciel found that he wanted nothing more than a blanket to pull over his head and a bed to curl up in. He wanted to cover his ears with his hands and squeeze his eyes shut. And maybe, very, very softly whisper for his butler to come and bring a light and stay by his side.

But Ciel had no blanket at his disposal, and no bed to hide in, so he stared at the roughly man-sized wisp of darkness at the foot of the steps.

Sebastian reached the throne and sat down, only now facing this new challenge.

'Mylord? Your court is wondering what fate you have designed for the humans in your company.'

'My court?,' Sebastian asked sardonically. 'Should I consider _my court_ a waft of coal dust, lately?'

Someone chuckled. Some faces cracked smiles. But Ciel saw a lot of scepticism, mostly in the faces of magical creatures, and he sensed danger. He cast Sebastian a surreptitious glance and knew the demon well enough to tell that he was on the alert, too.

'It is not seemly for the Hawthorn Lord to surround himself with mortals,' the shapeless creature went on. It reached out tendrils of darkness, circling Ciel's face. 'So young...so easy to scare...his fear so tasty...'

'You're the bogeyman, who hid under Earl Phantomhive's bed only a few days ago,' said Sebastian coldly. 'The butler asked you to leave. What part of "Get lost or get lighted?" didn't you understand?'

There was something puzzled about the man-sized darkness's floating. The humming voice took on a note of 'How would you know?'

Sebastian put on a face of superiority. '_Omniscient I am not, yet much is known to me_,' he recited.

'Oh, come on,' mumbled the bogeyman. 'You're not Mephistopheles.'

'I should hope so,' said Sebastian off-handedly. 'I'm not really good at producing doggerels.'

A gust of wind kindled the stack of wood that had been collected for the purpose of lighting a bonfire. It went up in an explosion of light, illuminating the clearing as if a shooting star had crashed in the midst of the gathering. Attendants, wordly and magical, looked up, looked at the sky, then decided that the lighting of the bonfire marked the beginning of the less official part of the festivities. The human maid was forgotten instantly, even by those watching and listening at the foot of the dais. Let the Hawthorn Lord amuse himself with a dozen of mortals, if the time for food and drink and music had come for his followers!

The bogeyman's scream of terror was lost among the cheers, as his form of wavering shadow dispelled in the sudden light.

'Never cross a butler with a penchant for pyrotechnics,' muttered Sebastian, absently petting the black cat that had made itself at home on his lap. He looked down. 'Oh.'

Ciel sighed, as the demon's eyes glazed over. The red-haired woman, Hesrabe's adversary, stood right at the foot of the dais. She was gazing intently at the cat and circling her forefinger in the air. The cat turned on Sebastian's lap, purring.

'You're a beauty,' whispered Sebastian. 'Your mistress has not forgotten how to repay me...'

'Are you saying that you turned Hesrabe out, because you knew, you'd get to cuddle _a cat_?'

But the cat had started to rub its head against Sebastian's face, and he was beyond words. Ciel snorted impatiently. 'I think I'll help the Viscount Druitt find a place for May-Rin.'

Obviously, there was no communication channel open between down-to-earth matters and cloud nine, so Ciel didn't even wait for a response. He felt, he'd gotten the hang of the rules of this game. Those creatures thrived on the fear of human beings. Maybe, some of them wouldn't refuse a small nibble of their victim's body or soul. But they would definitely savour the thrill of the hunt first. Ciel was not easily scared and he would refuse giving in to fear, and with that in mind and Sebastian around, it was safe for him to move around on his own.

The Viscount Druitt, on the other hand, had not moved very far. May-Rin was talking to him excitedly, telling him over and over again the story of her nightly adventure.

'If you're still trying to think of "somewhere safe" to take her,' said Ciel without introduction, 'the hell hound might be a good idea.'

Aleister looked at him in surprise. 'The hell hound?'

'Young master, is that you?' asked May-Rin. 'If you are, I don't recognise you with that mask on...'

'I am the Hawthorn Lord's ward,' said Ciel. 'No one's going to hurt you. Come on, now.'

He headed in the direction, where he'd last seen Pluto's white fur shining in the gloom. On the way, May-Rin filled him in on her story, too: After Ciel had told her to got back to work, she had watched Sebastian leave the premises. She had tailed him at safe distance, making use of her far-sighted eyes. Sometimes, he seemed to hear or sense her. But she had always seen the tiny movement that indicated that he was about to turn, and she had managed to evade detection. Then he'd entered the woods, and she got herself lost almost at the instant she followed him in. She had groped around, trying to find her way, when she hit on something that looked like big rock.

'But it wasn't a rock,' she explained to Ciel. 'It was some – kind of person, and another person, too, and they said, they'd take me to their lord, and this is where I am now, and – is that you, Pluto?,' she asked, sensing something large and white and four-legged in front of her.

Pluto happily licked her face, dousing her in reeking dog spittle.

'Stay with him,' Ciel said. 'He'll guard you.'

The werewolves gathered around May-Rin, sniffing.

'Nice doggies.' Timidly, she patted the large, heavy heads and toothy muzzles.

'You will not hurt her, understood?,' said Ciel. 'The demon wants her alive.'

One of the beasts bared its teeth. Its muzzle flattened and shrunk, forming hairy lips.

'You seem to think we're retarded,' it said. 'Boy, I am fluent in eight languages. Doctored in English literature at Oxford. Yes, I have another, two-legged life, and believe me, I know how to interpret the Hawthrone Lord's order to "keep off ".'

The pack laughed soundlessly at Ciel's baffled face. But May-Rin seemed at ease, surrounded by soft, furry bodies that invited her to lean back and rest for a while. A small werewolf, who seemed only a puppy, nibbled her ear. She smiled and patted its head.

'Take care of here.' Trying to regain as much dignity as possible, Ciel turned and left. The Viscount Druitt trudged beside him. In the youth's eyes was the feverish light of someone desperately trying to make some sense of what he'd seen and heard.

'The maid's story,' he finally said. 'Do you think, there is a connection between Earl Phantomhive's butler and our lord?'

Ciel laughed a little strained. 'Our lord? A butler? Don't let him hear that!'

'I don't think, he'll pay much attention.' Aleister stopped and pointed with his thumb. 'I've seen that look on a man's face before – albeit not when regarding a cat.'

Ciel found Sebastian surrounded by cats: big cats, small cats, kittens, with stripes and spots, short and long silken fur, in all shades of black, red, yellow, white blue and brown. They teemed and purred, besieging the throne and inviting its inhabitant to pet and stroke and cuddle to his heart's content. Everyone endowed with a feline familiar seemed to be sending it in, in order to please the Hawthorn Lord and subsequently profit from his generous mood.

'I wonder, I wonder,' murmured Ciel, 'if it's possible for a demon to develop a hangover from over-exposure to feline beauty?'

And if that was going to be the consequence of tonight's excesses, what would help alleviate the symptoms? Cat food? The thought of Sebastian spooning up smelly meat chunks and jelly brought a rare, thin smile on Ciel's lips.

'He could have all the ladies, those magical, bewitching ladies,' muttered Aleister. 'Yet, he settles for their pets.'

'The ladies? So that's what you're actually here for?'

'I have heard ... certain stories about this kind of ceremony,' Aleister admitted. 'I decided that I wanted to be at the heart of one. But - '

'But you weren't prepared for what you found lurking there,' Ciel completed the viscount's sentence.

'You're his ward. Who - what _is_ he?'

'He's my - ' Ciel stopped and shrugged his shoulders. 'Sometimes he's my tutor.'

'I once met a private tutor at a party,' Aleister said thoughtfully. 'He was clad in black and there was definitely something strange about him. But his ward was the most delightful young lady, I ever met!'

'Oh no,' moaned Ciel, but the Viscount Druitt finally felt that he was back on familiar territory.

'She was like a little robin, shy and delicate, but her hair was pure silk and the grace of her moves stole my heart, as she danced like a nymph.' Aleister recited his praise with closed eyes and theatrical gestures, one hand on his heart, the other arm moving expansively. 'Her eyes shone like gems, deep like the ocean, blue like - '

'You didn't see her eyes,' muttered Ciel, who kept walking briskly. 'You saw only one eye. The other one nearly got you killed, when I called Sebastian through our contract.'

The viscount realised that he was about to be left behind and he hurried to catch up. Walking beside Ciel, he tried to catch a glimpse of the earl's face. 'You're about her size, no, maybe you're a trifle smaller, but – have you ever thought about wearing a corset?'

'Why would I do that?,' snapped Ciel.

'Or a dress, maybe? How could I have missed it, this wonderful resemblance? This night's confusion has veiled my eyes, but now I step through the haze: You might be my little lost robin's look-alike.' He resumed his passionate declamation. 'Imagine a chaste hue on thy cheek and long tresses, spun from gold and opal...'

Ciel marched on, hoping to slip away.

'Gruffy, mylord?,' asked the ashen haired girl, whose bramble whip had drawn Sebastian's blood.

Ciel looked up. 'Wha- ?'

She curtsied and tilted her head in the direction of the viscount. 'He's a scream. I wonder how he landed the honorable job of being the Hawthorn Lord's lackey.'

'Pulled some strings, I guess,' mumbled Ciel. 'His name is known in certain circles.'

'My name is Lidia.'

Ciel stared at her, trying to figure out her true intentions. 'Mine is a secret.'

'Do you want me to teach Aleister a lesson, Asecret?' Her sparkling grey eyes proved that she hadn't really misunderstood but was merely playing along.

'No, I - ' Ciel saw that the viscount had ended his recital and looked around for his company.

'Come on.' Lidia winked her eye at Ciel. 'Don't deny that you wouldn't object to seeing him a little flustered.'

Ciel sorted out the double negative. He was running out of time, the viscount had spotted him and was approaching. 'Well, no, I don't - '

'Agreed then.' With one swift movement, Lidia rearranged her hair and checked the fit of her dress.

'Wait. You're not going to hurt him?'

But Lidia was already strolling towards the viscount, touching her hair and, no doubt, smiling enchantingly. The viscount looked like a flock of robins had settled before him, arranging their red chests in the figure of a big heart.

'You know she's a fairy? One of the thirteenth kind?' said a voice beside Ciel. It belonged to a crimson shape.

'Grell Sutcliff!' Ciel whipped around. 'What are you doing here?'

Grell pushed up his glasses, trying to look dignified. 'I'd love to say I was here for the show and the party. But I'm on duty.'

'Duty?'

'This ceremony is always attended by one of the shinigami.' Grell looked in the direction of the dais, where Sebastian sat with three cats on his lap and another on his head and was dreamily hearing another case. 'Sebas-chan. Isn't he gorgeous?'

'You've seen through our masquerade?'

'But of course, little earl,' said Grell. 'And it's not easy to keep the knowledge to myself. When all I want to do is sing my Sebas-chan's praise.' He produced his death scythes – two rather small scissors – and moved them like castanets. 'Yes! I am the troubadour at the steps of his throne.'

'More like his jester,' muttered Ciel. He was interrupted by a loud, croaking scream. _Aleister! He'd forgotten about the viscount! _

The youth was gone. Lidia pulled up a strap of her dress and carried a frog in her other hand. She returned to Ciel, with the dazed amphibian on her palm.

'Mylord, the target has been adequately flustered' she said, smiling mischivously.

The frog croaked and seemed shocked by its own voice.

Grell recoiled. '_Yeech!_ Get that slimy toad away!'

The frog croaked as if in protest. Its long tongue shot out, and it stared at it cross-eyed, then seemed to have trouble getting the lengthy appendage back into its mouth.

Ciel swallowed. 'Is that the Viscou- Aleister?'

'A fairy kiss made him, a maiden's kiss will re-make him.' Lidia thrust the frog at him more vigourously. 'Here. He's yours now.'

'What will I do with a frog? Return him to his real shape!'

'I can't. You'll have to find a maiden, who's willing to kiss him.'

'Don't look at me,' said Grell quickly. 'I'm not even a girl.'

'Oh, really?, asked Ciel. 'Then how about giving a sample of your excellent dramatic talent and pretend you _were_?'

Lidia frowned. 'You agreed on teaching him a lesson, now you take him.'

The transformed viscount threw a croaking fit.

'I didn't agree on anything.'

'Yes, you did. How else could I've worked the magic? It takes a mortal's wish to cast the spell.' She smiled. 'It's a shame, the power you mortals have over our kind and arts. Almost nothing can be done without at least one of you wishing, and incantating, and sacrificing, and signing of your own, free will.'

'But I didn't – oh, never mind! This travesty has to end!' Dropping the amphibian viscount to the ground, Ciel stormed off. He pushed through the crowd, trying not to think of how much he hated to be touched by other people. He kept his head down and shoved with his elbows, focussing on his anger and the things he was going to tell Sebastian, once he reached the dais. He didn't like the Viscount Druitt, who was a criminal. But he was an aristocratic criminal, nevertheless, and you didn't just go around and turn members of Britain's high society into frogs!

_Message for the demon section – get your crazies under control. Now!_

Ciel snapped out of it, when something landed in front of his feet and rolled towards him.

It was a head.

One of the dandies, Ciel had seen earlier, flaunting a stylish hair-cut, painted blue eyes and marble skin. Only the nasty hiss, he gave on coming to stop at Ciel's feet, destroyed the picture. He had needle-shaped fangs, better for puncturing than for tearing and ripping. But his life was fading quickly. The hissing stopped and the eyes dulled.

Ciel looked up and saw Sebastian with a sword at the foot of the dais. The blade was dripping blood. He handed it back to a man, who looked like a samurai from ancient Japan. Then, the demon stooped and lifted another severed head by its hair. He turned it, so it faced in the direction of the head at Ciel's feet. 'There, zombie. Does that solve your issue, who of you is the true undead?'

'I – I guess so,' stuttered the head, who was missing one eye and whose nose was coming apart with rot. 'Thank you, mylord.'

'My pleasure. Fire bugs - burn the vampire.' Sebastian dropped the zombie's head back on the body. The zombie's hand grappled for it. The head looked utterly unhappy, when it realised that the solution of one issue had created another.

A number of small red insects swarmed over the head at Ciel's feet and started to carry it off.

'Sprinkle some blood on the ashes.' Sebastian winked over his shoulder at the zombie. 'We'd want to give the vampire a chance for bringing his own species' advantages to bear, right? Of course, _he'll_ revive with his head attached.'

The bystanders laughed. The zombie's head screamed with rage. His decapitated body rose as if drawn by strings and flew at the demon. Sebastian rested his weight on his left foot, pivoted and kicked the undead square in the chest. Cats scuttled off in every direction, scared by the sudden movement. People dove out of way of the hideous projectile. Ciel's eyes widened. The next moment, he felt grabbed and lifted. By the time the zombie's headless corpse crashed, Ciel was on the steps of the dais, cradled safely to the demon's chest.

It was too close for comfort, but it certainly beat the alternative. Craning his neck, Ciel saw the zombie's body trash and struggle to get up, right in the spot where he'd been a moment before.

Sebastian seemed put out. 'Burn the zombie, too,' he commanded. 'Mix the ashes. Let's see, how they sort _this one_ out.' He walked to the throne and put Ciel down on the armrest. There was genuine concern in his eyes. 'I trust you are unharmed, young master?'

'I'm okay. Are you?'

'Why do you ask?'

'Ordering them to mix the ashes. That was perfidious.'

'It would be perfidious to have the ashes scattered,' argued the demon. 'It would also be a gross sight, which I wouldn't want to have creeping around in our woods. There is a chance that your aunt will be back for another hunting trip.'

'Somehow it sounds different, when you're wearing a tailsuit.' Ciel felt his irritation calm down and sighed. 'When you explained to me your role in this – game, you referred to honour and responsibility. You forgot to mention the law of the jungle. That′s the true reason, why the seat of honour is always taken by a demon, isn′t it? No one can rival your strength.'

'Now, that is probably one of the few things around here that make sense.' Sebastian had retrieved his chalice.

'I haven't failed to notice the madness of the rest,' said Ciel. 'People are getting turned into – things by creatures that shouldn't even exist by law of nature and logic. Others are accused for crimes that were not even committed. A demon, passing verdicts? Darkness Incarnate, supposed to welcome the sun? _Come on._ This court is a travesty and your function - ' He stopped, seeing the demon's eyes widen and his body tensing. He almost dropped his chalice. 'That smell!'

'Smell?' Ciel followed his staring gaze and became aware of a commotion in the crowd. Two figures pushed through the throng and came to stand in front of the Hawthorn Lord′s throne. One of them wore a large straw hat, the other one a white chef′s outfit.

'Sebastian!' called Bard, waving his hand wildly. 'So that′s where you′ve been!'

'Is that you, mylord?' yelled Finny, jumping up and down. 'Ciel? Hey, Ciel!'

Ciel was too flabbergasted to reply. He turned to the demon, hoping for advice.

But Darkness Incarnate had put its left hand to its head, suggesting that, right now, the only thing lurking in its heart was the exasperated wish to cry, cry, and maybe rip off some random heads.

For the first time tonight Ciel almost took his point.

But he still had enough presence of mind to call the servants up to the dais, before they shouted out their story for everyone to hear.

* * *

><p>Finny and Bard had troubling news to share: Phantomhive manor had been 'under attack', as Bard put it.<p>

'Invaded by strange, hairy things with long spears,' was Finny's description.

'They went on about being hungry and needing meat,' said Bard. 'We tried to man the windows, but there were too few of us.'

'You were three,' Ciel reasoned. 'Three, trying to man about onehundred-and-twenty windows.'

'Onehundred-and forty-eight,' said Sebastian, who stopped downing his strange drink just long enough to be specific about this detail. The Viscount Druitt wasn't available for refills, but Lidia had readily taken up the slack for him.

Bard looked confused. 'But how would you know, if you're not Sebastian?'

Ciel cast the demon a mean look, _'Omniscient am I not..._,' he quoted.

'No need to resort to magic,' snarled the demon fiercely, 'All it takes to figure out the number of those damned windows is the ability to _count_!'

'And a certain obsessive determination of taking stock of things,' muttered Ciel. 'But since _things_ are threatening to get out of hands - please feel free to contribute some determination _and ideas_.'

Sebastian straigthened up some. 'Firstly, Bard, Finny - you two join May-Rin in Pluto's custody. Lidia, you show them the way.'

'Yes, mylord,' said Lidia.

'No,' said Ciel quickly.

'Yes,' said Sebastian. 'I want to have a word with my young ma- with my ward. Alone.'

* * *

><p>The werewolves wondered, whether their lord's warning applied to those humans as well. They sat on their hind legs and conferred in their own snarling language. May-Rin, Finny and Bard discussed in theirs.<p>

'We left them behind, Finny,' said Bard, stroking Pluto's neck. 'We left Tanaka and Sebastian behind.'

'Sebastian -,' said May-Rin, but Finny interrupted her, saying, 'Sebastian is so clever. I'm sure, he'll be okay.'

'No, he won't', insisted Bard. 'You've seen those things. And we haven't seen Sebastian since the assault.'

'We haven't seen him for some time before the assault, either.'

'Yes. That's because, I - '

Bard got up. 'I've made my decision. I'll go back to Phantomhive. I'll save Sebastian or die trying.'

'No, Bard.' Finny was scared.

Bard made an important face, 'It's what I have to do.'

'No,' said May-Rin. 'Will you listen to me? It's only Tanaka, who - '

'Wish me luck!' said Bard, jumping onto Pluto's back and kicking him with his heels. 'Off we go, Pluto.'

Pluto sat down and scratched his ear.

'A-a-all right,' agreed Bard, hanging on with both hands. 'Needs must if the devil drives. Are you done? Good. Now, move.'

Pluto yawned and lay down.

* * *

><p>As soon as the servant had left, Sebastian let his gaze wander over the assembly. People had settled down at the camp fires. They were talking and singing. Some were telling fortunes, using cards or dice or tiny bones. Others were performing more complex rituals and discussing secrets of the occult arts. Some couples were looking for a little privacy in the undergrowth. The night was taking its course.<p>

_But not for the Hawthorn Lord._

'Are you leaving?' asked Ciel, when the demon got up and stretched.

'If the hog-goblins have taken over Phantomhive, I′ll have to go and show them the door.' Sebastian turned to Ciel, red eyes gleaming. 'Young master? This ceremony must not be disturbed. May I ask you to take my place, while I′m gone?'

Ciel's jaw actually dropped a little. 'Are you crazy? Who′s going to confuse us?'

'I can create the illusion. Make them think they see me, when they look at you.'

'So you can sneak off and get Tanaka? And save my house?'

'That′s the idea, yes.' Sebastian whispered urgently. 'Young master, you have watched me all evening. And there are only a few trials left, if any. No one expects justice or even fairness. Don′t hesitate to break some bones. They expect nothing less of a demon. The celebration is about to start. People usually know how to party. Sit back and enjoy.'

Ciel thought about his mansion being devastated by a wild horde of hog-goblins. 'Considering the alternative, I think I can manage.'

'I know you can, young master. Now, sit on my lap.'

'What?'

'We don′t want them to watch me leave, do we?' Sliding back on his seat, Sebastian reached out and pulled Ciel onto his lap.

Now, this was way too close for comfort. Ciel sat like frozen, staring ahead and not daring to move. The demon's soft laughter sounded in his ear. 'This might take some time. I highly recommend you continue breathing, young master.'

'I highly recommend that you get on with business,' Ciel grated. He felt Sebastian lean back, still shaking with suppressed laughter. People were looking at them. Obviously, they found it quite normal that the demon's ward should sit on his master's lap. Ciel kept his eyes on the crowd, trying to spot the perfect moment when no one was watching. But of course, it was the demon, who reacted first, when the unlikely conincidence finally occurred. The gentle pressure of his clasped hands around Ciel's midriff vanished first. Then, Ciel felt wood beneath his thighs and wood behind his back, and he realised that he was alone on the chair. The Hawthorn Lord's staff slipped. Ciel grabbed it, before it clattered to the ground.

A pair of young witches, who strolled past, became attentive to his sudden move. Unable to think of something else to do, Ciel waved at them. They waved back and giggled and hurried off.

_It seemed to work. He could fool them -_

Fifty meters away, Pluto suddenly got up, sniffed the air and set off in long, powerful leaps. He was followed by Finny and May-Rin, but not very far.

Bard clung to his fur, screaming.

+++End of Chapter 2+++


	3. Demons at Work

Today's April, 30th. "Happy Walpurgis Night", everyone :)

(I have a little bit of Tanaka in this chapter. This bit only makes sense, if you know the anime: Let's just say that sometimes, he can resume his former shape and behave quite normal. However, this state will pass - and he'll shrink to the shape of the tea drinking cartoon character that he has become.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel and/or any other characters of the series. I hold no rights whatsoever to Kuroshitsuji/"Black Butler", and I do not make money from this.

* * *

><p>+++ Chapter 3: Demons at Work (or "This isn't any worse than riding out with my aunt.")<p>

Sebastian opted for the short-cut and entered Phantomhive Manor in the stealthy, direct way of the supernatural. Standing in the darkness of Ciel's study, he transformed back into his butler outfit.

It wasn't so much a radical shift in the mindset, he reflected, as he pulled his gloves tight. It was more like a shuffling of priorities and motivations. As a demon, he'd worn all kinds of fashionable costumes, because he was a perfect hunter who blended in with his prey. As a butler, he dressed up immaculately, because that was what a butler did.

One way or the other – you had to straighten your tie and button your cuffs.

He checked his silver watch: four hours till sunrise. And this place was reeking of hog-goblins.

Sebastian could think of about a dozen ways to get rid of these nuisances. But there was one thing about hog-goblins, the demon knew for sure: You had to defeat them all at once. If you let but one escape, there would be more. And more. It was probably best to gather information, first. How many opponents would he be facing, where were they hiding in the house, and what were they up to now? Maybe he could bring them together in one room and close the door...?

As he pondered his possibilities, Sebastian left the study and headed towards Ciel's bedroom. It wasn't a conscious decision, but it seemed natural to start by securing the rooms and places around the estate, which his master cherished most.

The house was silent and dark, so Sebastian heard the voices from the other end of the corridor: At least two people were hiding in his master's bedroom, and now, one of them gave a muffled cry. Quietly, Sebastian opened the door. Two shapes were standing at the end of the bed, facing each other in spite of the dark: A gargoyle and a hog-goblin, both in a fighting stance. Sebastian wasn't really surprised to find Goolie in Ciel's bedroom. It was a special place, his master's most private sanctuary. After all, he, too, had intuitively decided to start his inspection round here.

The hog-goblin, on the other hand, had been led by sinister desires. It seemed to be spitting out jagged pieces of broken teeth.

Goolie confirmed Sebastian's suspicion. 'You are not nice,' the gargoyle said gloomily. 'Biting people is not nice.'

The hog-goblin stabbed the gargoyle with its spear. There was a spark, as flintstone scraped on granite, and a little zinging sound.

With a shrug and a jolt the gargoyle spread its wings. _Now_, its shape filled the space between the bed and the wall, as it closed in on the retreating hog-goblin. From the depth of its throat came a snarl that sounded like a large rock breaking loose from the top of a mountain and crashing down on the spectator below. The hog-goblin babbled in its own language and pointed its spear, but the flintstone continued to be pitifully uneffective. However, the repeated display of hostile intentions brought a red glow into the angry gargoyle's eyes. The hog-goblin panicked, screaming bloody murder, when it hit the wall and the gargoyle's menacing shadow rose in front of it.

Silently, Sebastian closed the door.

'I am not needed here,' he said to no-one in particular. He sounded surprised. It was a rare and strange feeling, not being needed. But with the prospect of dozens of furry creatures swarming this place, it was preferable to lay low and hide his presence as long as it wasn't necessarily revealed in order to protect his master's property.

Right now, Goolie was doing the protecting rather impressively. Judging by the noise, it was dangling the hog-goblin out of the window.

Sebastian left the gargoyle to its entertainment and the hog-goblin to its fate and went looking for Tanaka.

* * *

><p>Ciel found the role of the Hawthorn Lord easier to fulfill than he'd imagined. People were losing interest in watching the show around the dais. There was music now – drums, flutes and string instruments filling the night air with sound. Dark shapes danced in front of the red blaze of the bonfire. Not all of them were entirely human, but by now, Ciel had lost all trepidation. Not only did he look like Sebastian to the crowds – he also had finally understood the rules of this game. They were amazingly simple, actually. It seemed that once you got the hang of mental leaps, you could derange your train of thought and set it back on track pretty nearly everywhere.<p>

_Go with the flow_, Ciel thought, as he sentenced a fortune teller from the lower East End to hence be a mis-fortune teller for every third customer_._

'But mylord,' stammered the poor clairvoyant, who had been framed by a less philanthropic competitor, 'how can I lie to them? If their fate is going to be a good one...'

'In that case, I'll have the means to match reality to your forecast,' Ciel cut in, deliberately checking his nails. Looking normal, looking fine – but only to his eyes. 'Trust me.'

The fortune teller hung his head.

'_I don't trust you_,' said a voice in the back of Ciel's head.

Ciel saw the familiar cloud form of the bogeyman hover over the edge of the dais. Why an immaterial creature should only move upward where there were stairs, he'd never understand. Maybe, the bogeyman was just trying to act civilized. Or he'd been corporeal in the past and was just a slow learner.

Ciel realized that he no longer felt scared and tempted to hide under a blanket. The constriction in his chest that came with the presence of the ghostly entity was a nuisance and no cause for anxiety.

The bogeyman, however, buzzed with excitement and triumph.

'I've thought about it, and I've penetrated your secret,' hummed the phantom voice. 'There's only one way you could know what happened in that bedroom. You are the butler! The butler to the boy - Earl Ciel Phantomhive!'

Ciel smiled. Sebastian must've done a great job with the effects, because everyone backed off.

'Well, go and think some more, _fogbrain_,' he said. 'Because, no! I am not the butler to Earl Ciel Phantomhive.'

Silence followed his statement. The bogeyman was a hovering whiff of confusion.

Of course, Ciel wasn't going to give him the time to heed his own advice and truly think this over. He looked around. 'Alright. Someone around here knows how to make a nice, bright light?'

'Yes. We do,' said a greenish flame. It flickered and separated into a circle of smaller flames that quickly spread out and surrounded the unhappy bogeyman. 'Willow the Wisp at your service, mylord.'

Ciel nodded in approval, 'Make the day break somewhat earlier for him. Take him.'

He had no idea, how one could ‚take' a wisp of smoke. But Willow, being a wisp it- or himself, obviously knew how to pull the trick. Greenish flames and blackish shape disappeared.

Ciel drew a deep breath and looked around to see, if anyone questioned his action.

He met the gleaming green eyes of the shinigami on duty. Grell's tongue showed between his teeth, as he raised his hand, presenting Ciel his forefinger and pinkie. Seeing the wicked smile and the gesture, Ciel suddenly knew that, just like before, Grell wasn't fooled one bit by Sebastian's bluff. Now, that didn't really come as a surprise. It was probably important for a shinigami to be able to identify a soul, using other means than just the eyes.

But Grell's attitude reminded Ciel only too vividly that a shinigami was just another side of the supernatural coin. Not so very different from the darkness of a soul-hungry demon. There definitely was something lurking in Grell's toothy grin that made Ciel shiver and wish for Sebastian to return.

* * *

><p>The hog-goblin, who had been thrown out of the window by the angry gargoyle, hadn't remained on its own for long. A maltreated hog-goblin was certain to be found by at least one of its brothers. Dozens might follow; they had the mindset of infuriated ants, when it came to tackling an outnumbered opponent. But so far, one comrade was enough to help its crashed pal sort out its limbs and stand up. It was rubbing its head and cursing the strange child with the hard skin, when it became aware of some great shadow blocking the moonlight. A huge, white muzzle revealed very large white teeth. The latest adventure had set up the hog-goblin with an uncharacteristically nimble mind and a new determination to stay out of trouble's way. It grabbed its brother's arm, pulling him in front of the monster, and made a run for it. Pluto howled and took up the chase.<p>

None of the creatures running, hunting, chasing and howling under the blue moonlight noticed the demon, who stood behind one of the windows, observing.

Impassively, Sebastian watched the hell hound breathe flames at the fleeing hog-goblin, thereby grilling the one that was already in his mouth. The demon could hear the creatures squeal even through the closed windows. He wasn't smiling. There was a rather hard expression in his eyes.

'I'm not needed here,' he told himself. He turned away, drawing the curtains and continued his search. This house was just too big. Intruders could conveniently hide anywhere.

For hog-goblins, only one place would appear convenient enough.

Sebastian headed for the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Ciel sat on his throne, listening to the music and the noise of the partying crowds. Grell stood beside his armrest, scanning the gathering for attractive men and ladies alike. He never tired, announcing the results and describing in sordid detail the things, he yearned to do to - or with - them.<p>

Ciel had managed to let the shinigami's voice blend with the overall noise. But he sat up, slapping Grell's hand, when the shinigami touched his shoulder. 'Don't touch me!'

Grell was unfazed. 'Look. Your court has decided to sound the bell for the next stage.'

'The next stage?' Ciel saw a small procession come towards him. He thought, he indeed heard bells sounding. Four men in dark clothes pushed something that looked like a wheeled stretcher laden with flowers. Lidia was leading the way and from the celebrating crowd people joined the procession as it passed them by.

'Grell? What is that?' asked Ciel, when the stretcher was brought to a halt before the dais.

'Something, everyone has been waiting for.' The shinigami licked his lips.

Since it was obviously expected of him, Ciel set out to step down from the dais. However, standing up and taking a step forward, he realized that there was more to the glamour than just facial appearances. He felt wobbly on his feet, as if he were walking on six inch spike heels.

'Easy, _mylord_.' Grinning, Grell offered his elbow to lend support.

_You miserable hypocrite,_ thought Ciel, gritting his teeth. _All you want to do is touch something that looks like Sebastian! Even though you know it's me._

'It′s okay,' he snarled. 'I can walk!'

But he couldn′t. Ciel grit his teeth even harder and bit his lip, wishing that he′d played with stilts more often as a child. But he′d hated stilts and he hated Sebastian for making the illusion so damned real, and most of all he hated himself for reaching out and accepting Grell′s support.

Then it occurred to him that no one saw _Ciel Phantomhive_ stumble and totter and make a drunken fool of himself. Grinning viciously, he leaned even heavier on Grell's arm.

His smile faded, however, when he reached the flower-covered stretcher that had been brought before him. 'What is this?'

'Your sacrifice, mylord,' said Lidia. 'You indicated that you had an interest in her.'

'What, in May-Rin?' Ciel stared at the maid, who was bound and draped with flowers. A bride. Or a lamb. A goner, at any rate.

'Young master?' May-Rin's voice sounded thin and confused. She tried to focus her far-sighted eyes, blinking and squinting. 'Sebastian?'

'Mylord.' Lidia curtseyed and proffered Ciel a small knife. Ciel flinched and realised at the same instant that he had to be careful. People were starting to look confused. He wasn′t acting the demon they expected to see.

He clutched the knife. Lidia bowed and retreated.

_Now, what?_ Ciel asked himself. Memories returned to him unbidden. A table, made to look like an altar, and himself on it, weak, helpless, full of hatred. Faces, candles, the murmur of the incantation. The knife, the pain – the smile of the beast, his new ally.

In his mind's eye Ciel could see that smile now.

_I'll kill you, Sebastian,_ Ciel promised under his breath, as he approached the maid. _If I don′t find a way out of this – or if you′re not back in time, I′ll order you to gorge yourself on dog biscuits and crawl into in Pluto′s mouth._

'May-Rin, please understand that I – I don′t want to do this.'

'But – what _are _you doing?' asked May-Rin, apparently mystified.

Ciel hadn't made up his mind himself. He only knew one thing: He was _not_ going to put that blade into her. She was _not_ going to be anyone's sacrifice. She was -

_Her garments._ That might be a good place to start with. _Bargain for time. Try to delay until Sebastian gets back. He'll know, what to do._

Slowly, Ciel cut the apron and carefully folded it back. Maybe, if he took his time, they would believe that he was enjoying this. _Smile,_ he told himself. He noticed that May-Rins hands were in the way, so he ordered Lidia to get a bigger knife and cut the ties. She produced a creature that looked like a rat with abnormally large teeth and set in down on May-Rin's stomach. It started to nibble through the ties, thus buying Ciel another precious minute.

Still, Sebastian was nowhere in sight.

Lidia collected her creature. Ciel put down his knife and started to unbutton May-Rin's shirt.

'But, but - ,' she stammered softly, blushing.

Ciel wished, he could have whispered reassuringly to her. But with Lidia standing so close, he didn't dare, and he couldn't think of any pretext to send the thirteenth fairy away, either.

_Tiny, little buttons, all the way down from May-Rin's throat to her breastbone, to her..._

May-Rin turned a deep purple, and Ciel realised he had touched more than just her shirt.

'Gwkk,' he said, his hands twitching back.

May-Rin kept stammering incoherent, one-syllable words. Ciel had troubled understanding her - his blood was throbbing so loud in his ears - but somehow, he sensed that she seemed not entirely unhappy with the situation. Now, it was her corset. Ciel hadn′t known May-Rin wore one, but it was the last bastion. If it fell, there would be only her skin and her heart beating beneath it, and then he would have to use the -

But even worse, he didn′t want to touch the -

'_Argh_,' said Ciel, throwing the knife on the table, exasperated. 'Couldn't you have called this gathering, when I was a little older? I mean - in the mood for... stuff like that?'

Lidia seemed at a loss. 'Then what are you in the mood for, mylord?'

Ciel reached out for the very first available thread promising a way out of his predicament: He produced a set of cards from his pocket. He was determined to refuse any debate as to where Sebastian would′ve kept them in his tight suit, and no one asked.

'Old Maid,' he said.

May-Rin made a sobbing sound that seemed to come deep from her soul. Lidia looked shocked. Grell screamed with laughter.

Ciel felt like he had said something very stupid and he stood with his cards in his hand, staring. Then he noticed that the croaking sound in his ears was not due to the shinigami's guffawing. He was being scolded by a frog. He didn't understand the Viscount Druitt's words, but something told him that he was being challenged to a duel for being rude to a girl. Or for the stupidity of missing an occasion. Or both. Since a frog could not wield a foil, the Viscount Druitt would obviously settle for a good bite in Ciel's nose. He didn't have teeth, either. But he would _pinch_. Pinch!

Blushing, Ciel stuffed the protesting Viscount Druitt into his pocket, and marched back to his throne.

* * *

><p>Approaching the kitchen, Sebastian smelled fire even before he heard Bard's voice. He hastened his stride, knitting his eyebrows. He had left Bard with the ceremonial gathering. What on earth was the chef doing here now?<p>

The answer was as simple as obvious, once Sebastian had opened the kitchen door: The chef was using a flame thrower to chase a hog-goblin around and around the big table. Both were screaming wildly, the hog-goblin from fear and Bard yelling for the purpose of self-motivation.

Sebastian saw immediately that the kitchen once more was beyond the point, where his quick and determined intervention might yet make a difference. This time, at least, he was being noticed.

'Sebastian!' called Bard. 'There you are! Don't panic! Relax! Everything's under control.'

'Panic?' Sebastian sidestepped as the hog-goblin escaped into the corridor. Bard followed, wielding the flame thrower in one hand, a fork in the other. Since Sebastian relieved him of the flame thrower as he passed by, he proceeded with only the fork, but with no less determination.

Sebastian closed the door slowly. Looking almost dazed, he recommenced walking down the corridor, as if he'd never intended to stop at the kitchen. The feeling of being unneeded was starting to get on his nerves. He'd get rid of the flame thrower, then try and think up some reasonable course of action. For now, he mechanically directed his steps towards the basement. Since Bard seemed to be replacing flame throwers quicker than Sebastian could confiscate them, the demon stored them in an unused vault. Every now and then, he would dispatch them and start the collection all over again.

As he descended the stairs now, he could see the light of candles in the dark. He turned a corner and found that the basement had been turned into a layer and makeshift dungeon: The hog-goblins had brought blankets, table cloths, curtains and pillows from all over the house to prepare beds. They had compiled food from the kitchen, tools from the shacks and things, that could be used as or turned into weapons. They had also taken their first prisoner. Tanaka sat on one end of a wooden bench, while a hog-goblin occupied the other end. The surface of the bench served as a table for Tanaka's tea set.

_He's getting along, too,_ thought Sebastian, seeing the steam rise from the tea pot, and then, _Ah, the wonders of Walpurgis Night._

Because Tanaka was in his old shape and greeting him in a perfectly sensible and eloquent way. 'My friend. Come in. I was just enlightening this gentleman about the pleasures of high quality Assam blend. Can I convince you to share a cup of this divine drink with me?'

'Yes, you's my prisoner - ' said the hog-goblin eagerly, just before it was carelessly pushed off the bench by a white gloved hand and hit its tailbone on the stone floor.

'If you don't mind,' Sebastian said politely, taking the guard's place on the bench, 'I'll just sit and wait till I'm needed. Don't worry. It won't be long.'

* * *

><p>Something, Ciel would never have expected or even believed possible was happening: He was beginning to enjoy the party.<p>

Following the Hawthorn Lord's order, the greater part of the attendants had settled down at the campfires and employed whatever deck of cards could be found for a game of Old Maid or Snap.

Inevitably, Ciel was at the center of the action and just as inevitably, he was winning. Neither Grell, nor Finny, the lycanthrope scholar, Hesrabe's nameless antagonist or the revived vampire dandy were a match for his combined skill and luck.

He was shuffling the deck, when he heard the sound of hooves on the wooden floor. Looking up, he found a beautiful white horse standing before him. In the silvery moonlight, the mare looked like chiselled from marble, with tiny crystals sparkling in her mane.

'The Kelpie,' muttered Willow the Wisp, who was lending his light to the makeshift card table on the back of a huge tortoise.

Ciel climbed to his feet. He wondered, what kind of face Sebastian would put on to encounter this particular spirit. After all, he'd not been very nice to her – and the mare expressed her displeasure with her very first words: 'You sent me the basilisks.'

She had a sweet voice, a human voice. She would need to sound alluring: By now, Ciel remembered that the Kelpie was known for dragging children, especially boys, into a watery grave at the bottom of a pond or lake.

'I was lucky they are so dull creatures,' she went on, sounding reproachful. 'They were deceived by my reflection in the water, thinking that they looked at the real me. But you cannot petrify a reflection, mylord.' The Kelpie shook her mane and stomped her hooves. She was an exceptionally beautiful horse. Only the feeling of being precariously balanced alerted Ciel to the fact that he was actually walking. Approaching her – and now, he even saw his hand reach out to touch her mane.

The Kelpie moved her head with a jolt. Ciel stumbled, but instead of backing off, he found that he'd actually mounted her back. As soon as he didn't see her beautiful eyes anymore, the enthralling spell was lifted. But now, he could not have gotten off: He seemed stuck to the Kelpie's back like he was sitting on flypaper. She was an experienced hunter, who made sure that the victim didn't change his mind on feeling the first rippling waves of cold water lap around his legs.

The horse spirit set off at a gallop.

'Now I have you!' The Kelpie triumphed.

'No,' said Ciel levelly. 'I have you.'

The Kelpie felt her rider's legs clamp around her ribcage. She tried to gallop to the left. She couldn't. Not without getting a rib or two broken – or so it felt. She tried to break to the right. An unpleasant experience.

'This is not possible,' she gasped, running this way and that to escape the pressure of Ciel's legs. 'No one trapped by me can defy me!'

'No one of the poor blokes you trapped so far was a trained horseman,' said Ciel. 'I understand you usually go for farm boys, who come near your realm in order to water their herds.'

The Kelpie performed a series of wild leaps. 'I will drag you to the nearest pond! I will drown you in dark water!,' she threatened.

'Demons don't drown,' argued Ciel, remembering the bluff and holding on even harder. _This isn't any worse than riding out with my aunt,_ he thought.

'Then I draw upon the wood to assist in my plight,' snorted the Kelpie.

Too late, Ciel noticed the low branch that was hanging in his way. The Kelpie had taken excellent measure and Sebastian would've hit it full force. The Kelpie had no clear idea of the outcome. Maybe, the branch would snap. Maybe, the demon would be thrown off. Maybe – if not likely – he'd even be hurt. In any case, there would be some kind of effect.

But there wasn't.

Since his demon size was just an illusion for the eyes of the unsuspecting onlookers, Ciel slid under the trap easily. The Kelpie found his weight still on its back, while the branch remained still intact. 'How did you do that?,' she asked, flabbergasted.

'Amazing, isn't it?' Ciel grinned evilly. Then he remembered, how that kind of grin would look on Sebastian and he quickly controlled himself. He didn't want a passing owl to drop dead from shock.

'Get off!' The Kelpie was losing her nerves. She now sounded like a woman crying and pleading, as she jumped and hopped, all four hooves in the air. 'Get off, get off!'

'No.'

'Get off. _Please._ Why don't you get off my back?'

_Because I'm stuck to your back just like any other mortal boy._

'Because you're still trying to play your petty little game with me. I won't be played with.' Ciel hesitated, wondering if he was pushing his luck, then hazarded, 'You know that!'

If there was a magic word, he had obviously found it. The horse shape dissolved and Ciel slid from the back of a naked woman. She was tall and slender, her soft brown eyes too big for her face and her nose just a little to long. Ciel had not seen a lot of undressed women, but he was quite certain their legs were not usually long and muscled like that. They didn't habitually stand and walk on tip-toe, either. Her silver hair was full enough to be used as a cape, and she did, as she shivered in the cold air.

'You win,' she breathed, avoiding his gaze. 'Again.'

'This was just another game, after all.' Ciel wondered, what had taken place between Sebastian and this creature. He was distracted by a faint croaking sound somewhere in his pocket. He had forgotten about the Viscount Druitt. Now, he found the frog holding on to the rim of his pocket and staring bewitchedly at the naked female.

'You don't want to kiss her,' hissed Ciel. 'Someone like her got you in this trouble in the first place!'

'Oh,' said the Kelpie. 'What a cute little froggie!'

She reached out her hand, and the frog quickly climbed on to her palm. She lifted him to her lips and kissed him. The entire action had taken less than three seconds.

Nothing happened.

'Er...,' said Ciel, who had involontarily reached out his hand.

'Oh. I'm sorry, mylord.' The Kelpie handed him the Viscount Druitt back. 'I guess, everyone has their favorite animal, which they cannot resist.'

'He's not an animal. Well, not a frog,' said Ciel weakly. 'He's human. A maiden's kiss was supposed to break the spell.'

'They usually do,' said the Kelpie.

'Well – it didn't work,' Ciel pointed out.

The Kelpie stared at him. Then she broke into soft laughter that sounded partly like little silver bells ringing and partly like the distant echo of a neighing horse.

'But mylord,' she said, frowning a little. 'You're not seriously telling me, you forgot?'

'Forgot what?'

She sobered up. 'Mylord,' she said earnestly. '_I am not a maiden._'

'Oh. Er... of course. I. Didn't forget.' Ciel felt his cheeks burn and hoped that Sebastian's magic veiled his reaction. In order to cover his embarrassment, he turned around on his heel. 'I desire to return to the court. Resume your horse shape.'

The Kelpie hurried to obey. 'Of course. _Mylord_ should not be seen walking.'

_Indeed,_ Ciel thought as he gladly hauled his weight on to the spirit's back. _With those heels he'd rather not._

* * *

><p>Tanaka had been a butler for all his life, and he prided himself on his intuition. He knew, when to talk, and he knew, when silence was preferred. In the dark basement, guarded by a strange creature that had entered Phantomhive Manor along with its comrades, Tanaka drank his tea and left Sebastian to his own thoughts. Until the time of being his old self was over, and he deflated like a balloon, scaring the hog-goblin that had remained moping on the floor.<p>

Sebastian raised his head, watching the creature jump to its feet. However, before it became a threat for Tanaka, voices sounded on the stairs. A whole gang of hog-goblins entered, babbling and chattering.

'The old man has shrinked,' said the hog-goblin on guard, hoping against all evidence to find a sympathetic ear.

'There's fire-man in the kitchen,' screamed another hog-goblin, whose back was all scorched.

'Child is made of stone. Can't eat stone-child,' complained a hog-goblin, whose teeth appeared jagged and broken.

'Demon dog is in the garden. Eat hog-goblins,' wailed a hog-goblin, who was missing an arm.

'There's only butler left,' said the one hog-goblin, who was obviously still intact and therefore capable of devising a clever plan. 'Leave butler to monsters.'

'Leave butler to monsters?,' asked the others, almost uni-sono.

The leader elaborated, 'To fire-man, stone-child, demon-dog, shrink-man. They kill butler. We kill them.'

Silently, the door behind them closed.

They looked up and saw that the eyes of their prisoner had begun to gleam. Then, his lips parted into a sneer. He didn't have very long or very sharp teeth. But he certainly looked like he knew how to make the best use of them and was about to demonstrate.

'Ho, ho, ho. Ready,' said Tanaka, stopping to refill his cup and putting the tea pot back on the bench. His fellow butler nodded curtly, grinning.

The candles went out.

* * *

><p>+++End of Chapter 3+++<p> 


	4. Playful Moods

Hi there. Thanks for your messages. I'm afraid, I couldn't save the hog-goblins. But I could give some extra lines to Goolie. :) I'm growing fond of this little block of granite, and I'm happy to know that some of you feel the same. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, Grell and/or any other characters of the series. I hold no rights whatsoever to Kuroshitsuji/"Black Butler", and I do not make money from this.

* * *

><p>+++Chapter 4: Playful Moods (or 'Rely on me to leave a pistachio for you. Anytime.')<p>

Bard was checking the mansion for more hairy intruders, and there was something moving in the basement.

Bard stood at the top of the stairs, holding up the candles and thought about how Sebastian was never around when there was _real_ work to do. _Cook for dinner,_ was all, he'd ever care about and say. _Stir the stew. Cut the onions. Mash the potatoes. Set the table. Clean the -_

_Floor? _

In the light of his candles, Bard saw Tanaka and Sebastian. The old butler sat on a bench and enjoyed a cup of tea. Sebastian leaned on a mop, poised as if he were waiting to see, who was coming down the steps. The floor glistened wet.

'What are you doing?' asked Bard.

'Wiping the floor. It was filthy.'

'But it's pitch black dark in here!' Bard looked around. 'Or it was, before I brought the candles.'

'Why would one want to see filth?' Before Bard could make up his mind on the logic of this explanation, Sebastian thrust the mop in his hand. 'Here, you can finish. But don't open the closet over there.'

'Might contain skeletons, hm?' Bard tried to nudge Sebastian with his elbow.

'More like: the pulp that's left after the bones are mashed.' Sebastian shrugged. 'It was Tanaka's idea. I'm getting rid of it later.'

When he had left, Bard stood and looked at the closet, thinking. What did one store in a cellar? Wine, of course. Champagne. Whiskey. High quality liqueurs and beverages. Whatever it was, Sebastian should share it with his fellow servants. They all worked hard to maintain the young master's estate. And after the fight with the strange hairy burglar, Bard could really use some refreshment. He reached for the closet and pulled open the -

'Ho ho ho,' said Tanaka and snuffed out the candles.

'_Aargh! _Are you crazy?' A loud bang. 'I've bumped my head! Put the lights back on! _Argh!_ The floor's slippery! _Tanaka!_'

Feeling his way in the dark, Bard suddenly saw a small rectangle of light open some meters ahead and above. Gratefully, he groped for it, stumbling upwards, tripping, hurting his knees.

He was caught by a white gloved hand and embraced by warm, golden light. _Saved. At last._

Sebastian's auburn eyes looked down at him with an expression that was rather amazed than angry.

'You could at least have waited, until I had made it all the way up the stairs,' he said, then smiled. 'But you may call me ‚Light Bringer' any time again. I could take to the sound of it.'

Blushing with embarrassment, Bard got up and mumbled something unintelligible. Then he hurried off towards the kitchen.

Sebastian looked after him.

'I think, I'd better lock this door,' he told Tanaka. 'May I ask you a favour?'

'Ho ho ho,' agreed Tanaka.

'Thank you. Listen - ' Sebastian whispered in the old man's ear.

Thirty seconds later, he was rushing towards Ciel's bedroom and changing his appearance, as he hurried along the corridor. He threw open the door and -

'What are you doing up there?' asked Sebastian, perplexed.

Goolie was perched on the wooden frame of Ciel's canopy bed like an oversized grey cat. Stone claws and feet were all clasped around the same fifteen or so inches of wood. It looked dangerous for both, the gargoyle _and_ the bed.

'Oh, mylord,' said Goolie. 'Your ward - the human, who named me, he told me to find a roof and settle on it to wait for rain. The roof of this mansion is perfect for attaching oneself. But I thought, I could wait for the rain in here.' Goolie shifted its weight. The wood creaked. 'The window was open and there's something about this room that makes me wish its owner was fond of gargoyles. I hope he allows me to stay a little longer.'

Of course, Sebastian knew exactly, what the little creature was talking about.

But he was not prepared to serve his master's cup of morning tea from now on under the eyes of a grey stone guardian.

'Did it occur to you that the structure was not built for gargoyles to sit on? That it will break?'

'That's fine,' said Goolie, starting to crawl. 'I'll just move over to the corner, where the two beams meet, and - '

'NO!' yelled Sebastian over the cracking of wood and then added, 'Don't move. I'm going to get you down.' He looked around. 'Somehow...'

'You could catch me,' Goolie suggested, hopefully.

'Right. I could.' Sebastian continued his search for a tool.

'Please? I've always wanted to know so badly, how it feels.'

Sebastian looked up, cocking his eyebrows. 'You've only been alive since two weeks.'

'If you're waiting for someone to catch you, two weeks is an awfully long time,' said Goolie with great earnest.

Sebastian stared, then sighed. 'Alright. But you'll come with me back to the assembly, afterwards.'

'I will,' promised Goolie. 'I can take us both there. Once I'm airborne, I can carry a lot of weight.'

'So can I - I hope.' Sebastian opened his arms and the gargoyle jumped. Sebastian caught it effortlessly, but Goolie's wing brushed a valuable china vase from a table. Sebastian dashed forward to catch it on his toes – and remembered that that would leave him balancing the weight of a small elephant on about seven square-inches, the toes and the stiletto heel of his left foot.

He could do it. But could the floor take the - _oh dear! Too late!_

The china vase hung in front of his nose, undamaged.

Goolie smiled up at him and winked its eye. That thing had _claws _at the end of its wings, and it had hooked one into the opening of the vase as it fell.

Reluctant, then with increasing sympathy, the demon returned the smile.

'Feels good.' Goolie snuggled against him. 'Can we do it again?'

'Maybe next week. When I've recovered from the joy of the first time.' Sebastian carried the gargoyle to the window and, after giving it time to prepare, dropped it. Then he jumped off the sill and landed on Goolie's back, standing leg and free leg, dangerously poised between sky and earth.

'I'm afraid, I'm too small for you to sit on my back,' said Goolie. 'Is it very uncomfortable, having to stand up all the time?'

'Too small?,' asked the demon. 'I could do a handstand up here.' And, being in a playful mood, he did.

* * *

><p>Ciel had wondered, how Sebastian would bring about the second swapping of roles. Was he supposed to prepare the scene? Enter the shrubbery, maybe, or find some pretense to inspect one of the tents? Should he look out for strangely trusting animals, a black dog or a cat or maybe, a crow?<p>

He found out that none of it was necessary. Sitting on the throne, Ciel suddenly felt lifted up by two hands, and another body slid between him and the seat. A well-known voice whispered in his ear, 'What the hell is going on here?'

'A card-playing contest.' Ciel turned and glared at Sebastian. 'I will hear no flippant remarks. After all, I had to come up with _something_ to keep them entertained.'

'I see,' said Sebastian, stunned.

'Also, the Viscount Druitt got turned into a frog, the bogeyman was taken by a green ghost light, and I only barely rescued May-Rin from becoming a sacrifice. Oh, and if you come across the Kelpie, stay clear of her hooves. She might bear a little grudge. I guess I know, what you two did, but she thinks you forgot, and she seemed... sort of upset.' Ciel moved to sit on the armrest. 'How was _your_ evening?'

'Your mansion is safe.' Sebastian smiled enigmatically. 'Who chose May-Rin for becoming my sacrifice?'

'Lidia thought you had an interest in May-Rin, so she – what's so funny?'

'Lidia, yes?' Sebastian had spotted the fairy waiting in the background and beckoned her to come over. 'You caused quite a commotion, young master. You truly have demonic potential. But there's one thing, you need to learn about offerings.'

'That is?' asked Ciel, boiling inside. Sebastian took the chalice from Lidia's hand.

'You can accept them,' he said, taking a swig. 'Or reject,' he continued and splashed the drink in Lidia's face. 'The choice is yours.' He flicked his hand and the fairy's clothes came off, as if the seams had been cut.

_Well,_ though Ciel, stunned by the speed of the actions, _that was probably one way to do it._

Lidia stopped rubbing her eyes, as she needed her arms to cross them over her bosom.

'So, choose.' Sebastian concluded. He stood up and placed his hands on Lidia's bare shoulders. Turning her around, he presented her to the court. 'Behold - the Hawthorn Lady.'

The crowds cheered.

'And _put down your cards!_'

Hundreds of cards were torn out of the player's hands by a gust of wind and fluttered through the air. Some got too close to the camp fires and went up in flames like so many giant fire flies.

The fairy placed her hand in the crook of the demon's arm. 'You honour me greatly, mylord,' she whispered.

'I like your style,' the demon informed her, as he started to descend the steps. 'You did everything to draw my attention.'

'Including drawing your blood,' she agreed, walking on bare feet by his side. 'I flogged you as hard as I could.'

Lidia could see the reflections of tumbling, blazing cards in his eyes, as he turned to her.

'Guess what? I noticed,' he said.

'Guess what? I wanted you to notice.' She raised her chin and the demon descended on her like a black bird on a wounded doe.

Ciel made a face. Gathering his cards, he gestured at the next best creatures to join him. Goolie and Willow the Wisp followed his invitation. Ciel was surprised to see the gargoyle, but he was happy for the company.

Four rounds of 'Old Maid' later, he glimpsed Sebastian and Lidia dancing with the crowd. Lidia was moving gracefully, turning and posing. She seemed to strive to evade the demon, who was, in turn, trying to outmaneuver her and get a look in her eyes. Thus they pivoted and piouretted, they writhed and wreathed, attacked and feigned, from left and right, from above and below. But they were not touching. Lidia set the pace, and whatever she did, the demon timed his own movements so that there was a small distance, no wider than a finger, but carefully kept at all times. Ciel marvelled at the speed and grace of their dance. Had he ever thought the Viennese waltz was a challenge?

_Well, the difficulty comes with the closeness,_ he thought stubbornly. Anyone could weave around another, if there was a distance to observe... Distance was the key to many things, mentally and physically...

When Ciel looked again, however, the distance was gone. The beat or drums and flutes was hammering now, and the Hawthorn Lord and Lady had linked arms with each other and were skipping wildly in narrow circles. Someone passed them a dish, and Sebastian picked a morsel of something and fed it to the fairy. Lidia's glossy red lips sucked the crumbs from Sebastian's fingers...

Ciel found it increasingly hard to concentrate on his game. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to welcome the feelings that stirred within him, so he used them to fuel his anger and refusal. Those things, he at least knew how to deal with...

And then, as if alerted by his master's blackening mood, Sebastian was beside him.

From the corner of his eye, Ciel saw the dark shape slide up to him and knew him by the way his fellow players edged away reverently.

Ciel took his time, reorganizing the cards in his hand. The silence stretched. The dark shape waited.

Then –

'Pistachios,' said Ciel.

'Pistachios?' echoed the demon.

'That's what you wanted to know, isn't it? You wanted to know what was on my mind. One penny for my thoughts. Well, keep your money. The answer's: pistachios.'

'I'm sure it's a rewarding subject to contemplate,' said Sebastian, deadly serious.

'I was thinking of that day in October,' Ciel explained. 'When Funtom's latest selection of fine chocolates was released, remember? I received the first box, and Liz- my fiancée decided to feed toffees to me. She enjoyed it, and I'd have tasted them anyway, so I left her her way. But she ate the pistachio off every toffee. I told her to stop. But she just kept eating them.'

'The loss obviously runs deep,' stated the demon. He still kept a straight face.

'You simply don't do that to people,' Ciel insisted. 'Eating which they love most, even when they asked you not to.'

Sebastian smiled. 'Is that supposed to tell me something?'

'No,' said Ciel. 'It's just something that came to my mind when I watched you and Lidia enjoying yourselves. Maybe I'm going crazy like the rest of you people. Maybe, I'd really make a good demon. I don't know.' He waved his hand, impatiently. 'I'm in the middle of a game. Leave me alone.'

The demon watched him with an almost gentle expression in his red eyes. 'Young master, please understand that of all the toffees in the world, you'd be the only one with a pistachio on top.'

Now, it was Ciel's turn to stare.

'If I was fond of chocolate,' Sebastian hurried to specify. 'I mean, I'd leave the pistachio for you.' He reconsidered. 'Of course, I'd do that anyway. Yes. Rely on me to leave a pistachio for you. Anytime.'

More mystified staring on Ciel's part.

Gravely, the demon nodded his head, '_Mm-hmm!_'

'Gosh, Sebastian,' said Ciel, astonished. 'Stop drinking that stuff.'

'I probably should,' Sebastian agreed, pointing. 'I imagine seeing a frog peeping out of your pocket.'

'The Viscount Druitt.' Ciel took the sad youth on his hand. 'How am I going to find a maiden who's willing to kiss him and break the spell?'

'Where's the problem?' asked Goolie timidly, inching closer.

'The problem is that the Kelpie wasn't a maiden, and no one else seems prepared to touch him.' By now, Ciel was so used to his strange company that he didn't even notice he was explaining things to a gargoyle. 'I thought about ordering May-Rin, but after our last - conversation, I find it too embarrassing...'

'I think he looks cute.' Goolie cocked its head and put a finger to its mouth. 'He reminds me of my fellow gargoyle, left hand side, when I was still attached to that roof.'

Ciel looked up in surprise and even the frog's bulbing eyes seemed to grow larger. They nearly popped out of his head, when the gargoyle took him on its stony hand. Goolie tried its best to purse its lips and –

_Smack!_

The frog was gone and the Viscount Druitt sat on the ground, with the gargoyle's hard, stone cold lips on his mouth. He made a muffled sound, struggled to break free, and stumbled to his feet, already at a run. Goolie clung to his leg.

'Oh, you're pretty,' the gargoyle sang happily, 'soft, soft golden hair, let me sit on your roof and wait for rain, can I, please?'

'Myloooord!' the viscount called, hobbling straight into the night. 'Do help me!'

'Don't go there,' murmured Ciel. 'There's something lurking at the heart of every darkness.'

'Frog-forming fairies,' said Sebastian, snickering.

'Girlie-Goolie gargoyles,' said Ciel, shrugging. 'Did you know, he was really a girl?'

'Wasn't that obvious?'

'No, it wasn't, and you're not fooling me one bit! It was news for you, too.'

The educated werewolf approached the dais at a quick trot. 'Mylord! You must come and restore order. The Hawthorn Lady seems to have put warts in the face of the maid, whose sacrifice you refused. And now the May-Rin is throwing things at the Hawthorn Lady and the shinigami is somehow involved, too...'

In the distance, Ciel saw Lidia flying through the air. He had to look twice to see that she was sitting on the ram-skulled staff - the Hawthorn Lord's scepter. She was circling and power diving and apparently bickering with someone among the earth-bound crowds. From below came a viscious barrage of stones and other missiles: May-Rin must've taken off her glasses, for she scored an amazing number of hits.

Sebastian sighed. 'Well, I'd better go and take a look.'

'It's your night off,' said Ciel, dispassionately. 'Enjoy yourself.'

Sebastian climbed to his feet without the early evening's playful attitude, standing leg and free leg. He seemed happy to stay balanced, and now he actually, unconsciously put a hand to his head.

'Gosh, Sebastian...,' whispered Ciel, unable to decide whether to gloat or to start feeling alarmed. He watched the demon pass through the crowd, when someone shuffled and blew his nose close by. Ciel turned and saw Goolie. The little gargoyle's face was as unhappy as it could possibly express.

'Goolie? Good gracious! What happened?'

'The sun-haired human is with the Kelpie,' the gargoyle sniffed. 'And I'm going to see the basilisks. I want to be turned into stone. I never hurt this much, when I was made of stone.'

'But Goolie, you _are_ made of stone.'

But Goolie just limped on, trailing heartfelt and unhappiness.

_Do I understand any of the things that drive these people tonight, _Ciel wondered. _No. Do I want to learn about them? I don't think so. _

_I want to go home._

He was being dealt cards. He looked up.

Willow the Wisp flickered his light at him. So did two smaller ghost lights.

'Meet my Wisps,' Willow said.

Smiling, Ciel took up his cards.

* * *

><p>Bard looked up, when someone entered his kitchen. It was a bespectacled, tall man in an immaculate suit, who carried something like a gardener's tool in his hand.<p>

'I am William T. Spears, Dispatch Management Division,' the stranger said. 'I have come for the tail suit.'

'Bardroy. Flambée Manager and Head of Dinner Squad,' Bard said. 'Tail suits are in the Butler's Division. I can see, if he's - '

'Ho ho ho,' said Tanaka, handing Spears a neatly folded bundle of black cloth.

'Thank you,' said the stranger. 'That was pleasantly easy. All the more, since I am doing overtime here. But, of course, that is something, his kind of parasites will never understand - or be grateful for.'

And he left.

'He was probably a chef, too,' sighed Bard. 'The things I have to put up with.'

* * *

><p>One hour later, Ciel was still engaged in a game of ‚Old Maid' with Willow and the Wisps. Around them, things had taken their predictable course. The fires had burnt down. Most of the humans and the better part of the supernatural creatures were out cold. Ciel had even successfully coaxed Sebastian into laying down, when moving about no longer seemed a recommendable option. Sebastian had argued that he was only having problems with his balance, because he didn't feel the floor under his feet as a side-effect to the ritual painkilling drink.<p>

His teeth kept getting in the way of his 'f' sounds. Another side-effect, obviously.

Whatever the definition, the result was pretty much the same. For the last half hour Ciel had been sitting comfortably on the demon's stomach. Sebastian's eyes were half open and he kept peeping into Ciel's cards. However, he seemed not interested in partaking in the game; he was perfectly satisfied being near to his master, even if Ciel's weight was interfering with his ability to breathe. Ciel, on the other hand, felt that things were finally back under his control, even if they were not exactly buzzing with their usual activity.

Thus, they were sharing a rare moment of togetherness, feeling both quite contented with their current position and the world in general.

'Dawn is breaking,' said Willow. 'I can feel it. My light is waning.'

'Then maybe we should notify the Hawthorn Lord?' suggested one of the Wisps.

Ciel reached down and shook Sebastian. 'Hey? _Mylord?_ Are you awake?'

Instead of opening all the way, the demon's eyes closed completely.

'Go on and tell me again, you're not smashed, just _dizzy,_' muttered Ciel. "Come on. Look at me."

'The Hawthorn Lady is coming,' muttered Willow.

Ciel turned and found a small procession, led by Lidia, crossing the clearing. She was wearing a coat now, that looked like one of the white, dewy spider webs one can find on late summer mornings. It even had tiny, glistening stars in it. She held it closed in front of her, as she ascended the dais and stooped over Sebastian.

'Mylord,' she said softly. 'It's time.'

Sebastian seemed not too inclined to jump to his feet and take the scepter. 'Eleven minutes...,' he mumbled.

'Yes,' said Lidia, patiently. 'But we still have to get you ready.'

'Listen,' Ciel said. 'I respect your heathen ritual. But, as you can see, your Hawthorn Lord is in no condition to devise a speech for anyone. Let's call it a night.'

'We can't.' Lidia shook her head. 'The ritual must be concluded.'

'Alright then,' said Ciel, who had seen this coming and made his decision. 'This has taken enough of my time. Let me take his place.'

'You? But - are you up to the task?'

'I bear his mark, after all. And I guess, I can find some praising words for the sun anytime.' Ciel looked down at the demon. But Sebastian lay unresponsive, listening or asleep, there was no way of telling. 'Come on. Let's go.'

Followed by the small procession, Ciel accompanied Lidia to a man-sized wooden frame. It consisted of a wickerwork of hawthorn and and bramble and withies. Like May-Rin's altar, it was draped and loaden with flowers. Unlike the sacrificial altar, it was tilted slightly, making it comfortable for Ciel to lean back and watch the horizon for the first light of the rising daystar.

'Is there anything I should know? Special words? Or gestures?'

'Know?' Lidia looked surprised. 'What's there to know? You simply wait. And then the sun rises. In about...seven minutes.'

* * *

><p>When the procession left, two lonely figures lingered, confused and uncertain of what to do.<p>

It took Finny some courage to approach the sprawled demon. He lifted up one limp wrist. 'Seba- this scary toothy-thingie is not really well.'

'And the young master, who looks like our young master, is with that fairy-woman,' said May-Rin. 'That's not good.'

'It was his choice, so let him have his way,' said Sebastian from below. 'Eight minutes now.'

Finny hurried to help him get to his feet.

'Thanks, Finny. Can you help me get to my ward's side?'

'Why bother?' asked Finny, as he supported his burden across the littered clearing. 'You said, it was his choice.'

The demon smiled. 'Yes. But it's _my job_.'

Just at that moment and twenty meters away, Ciel realized that the wickerwork frame was not only some kind of picturesque background. The worked-in brambles developed a creepy life of their own, winding around his wrists and ankles. He started to shout orders, 'Take that off!' and 'Let me go!' and 'I swear, you'll pay dearly, if you don't release me this instant!'

'See,' said the demon, tripping over an unconscious piper and hanging on to Finny for balance. 'He's already changing his mind.'

Ciel searched for his demon, and he was relieved, when his gaze was met.

Sebastian smiled and held up one finger. 'Young master? You persuade how to know me.'

'What?' asked Finny and May-Rin.

'Yes, I know,' said Ciel, softly. 'But I won't call out for you in front of all these people. Come here.'

Sebastian let go of Finny's shoulder and staggered over to Ciel's side. He clutched the wooden frame as soon as it came within reach, needing the support.

'I hope you agree that this is a desaster,' snarled Ciel. 'And I refer to both, my present state and your sorry condition, as well as all the correlations between.'

'You're mistaken, young master. The real desaster is yet about to happen.' Sebastian pointed and Ciel followed the hint.

Almost too thin to see, a little wisp of smoke rose from the hawthorn at Ciel's feet. As he stared at it, transfixed with sudden concern, he smelled a trace of burning hay and realized that the brambles next to his head were starting to smoulder.

'Sebastian,' breathed Ciel. 'The wood is catching fire.'

Sebastian faked a worried expression. 'My, my. What a mess. - I told you not to act the earl around here.'

'Shut up,' hissed Ciel. 'Stop making that face. It's not funny!'

'No. Actually, it's rather agonizing, if you step into it unprepared.' Sebastian sighed and shook his head and squinted at the horizon.

Ciel suddenly saw another kind of light: 'So that's the pain you meant to kill? I thought, you talked about the initial flogging!'

'Oh that. No, that was simply a warm-up ritual.' Sebastian folded his arms and conveniently leaned on the frame. 'Drawing the demon's blood makes the humans feel more at ease. They like the idea of being in control of things. But it's the vows that really matter. Body and blood. Life and soul.' Sebastian smiled. 'Pure symbolism. But one, you should have listened to. _Before_ you started acting the earl.'

'Thank you so very much for enlightening me,' Ciel all but yelled. 'You could've told me, this would happen! You could've told me, while there was still time!'

'Why, you didn't ask.' The demon's smirk screamed for a brick to smash it.

Unfortunately, there was no brick sufficiently endurable to survive being smashed in those fangs. Not on this world, anyway.

'I did.'

'No, you didn't. Well, not for the specifics, at any rate.'

'Why would I?' Ciel said, angily. 'No questions on the night of May the first, remember?'

'You lot are always so _motivated_, trying to talk your way out of damnation.' Unfazed, Sebastian tried to employ a casual posture, standing leg and free leg, and almost toppled over. Gravity really wasn't his friend, today. 'But I like that spirit in tiny, bound humans. I'll ask you one last time: Do you - '

'_We! Already! Have a contract! _Good gracious, what cloud are you on?' Terrified, Ciel saw the sun rise over the horizon. It was only the first glimpse of the rim of the radiant disc, but it seemed so much brighter than any light he'd ever seen before. Whiter than the glow of a newly forged horseshoe.

'Oh dear.' Sebastian straightened up. 'I guess this means, my night off is over...'

Ciel had never before noticed, but the demon was also slurring his ‚f' sounds, only in an different way, when he was using his teeth for pulling tight a white glove.

Then he felt the wooden frame receive a hard jerk, just as the dry wood around him ignited with a series of cackling explosions. The frame tilted, giving Ciel a precious half second before the wickerwork around his head burst into flames. In that half second, Ciel was busy trashing, struggling, frantic to scream out Sebastian's name and choking on the searing hot air that filled his lungs.

Next, he was out of the furnace, sent stumbling forward by a powerful push. He was caught by human hands.

'Finny! May-Rin!' But the person, he really wanted to shout out for, was Sebastian.

Sebastian, who was but a darker shape in the blinding radiance of the flames. He seemed to stand very straight and face the horizon.

Ciel wanted to order him to get out of there. But his voice caught in his throat, as memories threatened to overwhelm him.

_I don't want to see another burnt corpse, I don't -_

He noticed a red shape sliding up to them and whipped around.

_'Now, you're mine_,' said Grell Sutcliff in a funereal voice to the blazing fire. He turned, beamed down at Ciel and wiggled excitedly, his voice rising to its usual pitch. 'Oooh, how I've been waiting to say that!'

'So that's what you're really here for,' said Ciel.

The shinigami ignored him. He watched the inferno and licked his lips.

Ciel persisted, 'You've been here for him all along. And _he knew_.'

'Of course. Everyone here knows,' said Lidia. 'Light burns away the dark. The reign of the Sun ends the terror of Winter. That's what this celebration is about. That's what the Hawthorn Lord stands for.'

Ciel stared at her with bloodshot eyes. 'He can't die. He's a demon. I won't believe that he's dead.'

'Ah sorry. It's not a question of what you believe,' said the graduated werewolf.

The stake collapsed, burying Sebastian under a heap of blazing wood. Sparks whirled up and filled the air.

'My call. Outta my way!' Grell jumped into the blaze. His red hair and crimson coat seemed to become one with the dying fire. The light reflected on his scissors, as they clicked.

'No,' screamed Ciel. 'Don't use your death scythe on – _ow_!' Surprised, he put his hand to the eye that bore the mark.

'Oh,' he heard Grell Sutcliff's surprised voice. 'Oh no! Not again! Listen, you can't just _– there are rules_!'

Ciel stared at the crimson on his fingers:_ Body and blood. Life and -_

'Sebastian,' he whispered, stunned, as the full impact and significance of events finally started to register.

'I'll go on strike,' yelled Grell, dancing on the smouldering ashes like a crazed Rumpelstiltkin and waving his fist at the thin air. 'You – you _demon_! I want to see it all! _Show me_ _the juicy stuff_!'

+++ End of Chapter 4 +++


	5. Kiss of Life

A/N: Hi there. I'm glad, you're back. This was meant to be the last chapter. (Starting like that, you probably already know, it isn't. :) ) The thing is - I wanted to bring Sebastian back neat and fast, then move on to tie up the real lose ends. But it turned out there was so much complex and wonderfully twisted action going on behind the scenes, I decided to make it part of the story. :)

I'll bring the whole thing around full circle afterwards. Probably next week.

Oh, and of course, I am once more influenced by the anime. If you are still wondering - and don't want to learn 'via fanfic' - what kind of creature the Undertaker is, you should not read on. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, Grell, William T. Spears and/or any other characters of the series. I hold no rights whatsoever to Kuroshitsuji/"Black Butler", and I do not make money from this.

* * *

><p>+++Chapter 5: Kiss of Life (or: 'I understand you volonteered for this job.')<p>

Half an hour before sunrise, Bard had already decided that the day was going to be a strange one.

He knew it, when he answered the door and faced a dark-clad man, who was reading a book even as he walked in. The visitor's garments, even his hat, were long and flowing, his silvery-white hair reached down to his hips. His eyes were hidden under his bangs. The book had no title, except for the letters 'C' and 'P' and some library code printed on its spine.

'I have come for the beast,' the man said, as he pushed past Bard.

'Well, it's got to be around somewhere,' Bard said, quickly matching the apparition with his idea of a big game hunter. The result left him even more confused, so he dropped it. 'I've been looking all over the place. Except for the basement. Sebastian has locked the door and - ' He stopped. 'Does that mean, that little hairy gnome is down _there_? But why wouldn't he tell me? Does Sebastian think I could not cope with a - ' Lacking an appropriate word and being too indignant to think of one, he hesitated.

'That's three questions and a missing definition,' the stranger said, somewhat lurkingly. 'Begin.'

'Begin what?'

'Well, making me laugh, of course. That's the deal. I get a good laugh, you get an answer. Your butler knows the rules.' The visitor raised the book, reading aloud. _' "You persuade how to know me."_ Hilarious!' He looked at Bard; at least that was what the movement of his head suggested. 'Usually, I want my reward delivered as a visual treat. But this - this image - is so ludicrous, I think, I'll make an exception.'

'Sebastian called you?' Bard scratched his head. 'Well, I guess, that's okay, then...'

The stranger walked down the corridor, reading the book as he walked, giggling.

Bard looked after him, still scratching his head.

* * *

><p>The Undertaker reached Ciel's study and made himself at home. He arranged the curtains in a certain manner, then he produced a piece of chalk and drew a circle on the floor. Next he added a five-pointed star and proceded to fill in letters and symbols. A human occultist would have sweated blood. One line in the wrong place, a squiggle curving the wrong way might loosen pandemonium on Phantomhive manor and, subsequently, the whole of London.<p>

But the Undertaker finished the magic signs with practised ease and not one moment's hesitation.

Then he sat down behind Ciel's desk and waited. He moved, when a beam of light filtered through the gap between the curtains. Leaning forward, his elbows on the desk and his chin on his folded hands, he grinned at the pool of light on the floor.

* * *

><p>The fire had burnt down, and the party was over. The cool morning air was carrying the smell of fire away and the sun had lost its frightening bright radiance. Now, it was only another beautiful morning in spring, fresh and sparkling with life. Birds were singing in the trees, the ground was moist with dew. Leaves were green, the sky overhead was blue and the last traces of smoke drifted off like ghosts, manning the few last cloud ships that set sail for the western horizons.<p>

People were leaving. They packed their belongings, rolled in their tents and distributed the ashes of their camp fires, making sure to extinguish any surviving spark.

Ciel's eye had stopped bleeding. It had been only a few drops, just enough red in his tears to tint the sight of Grell Sutcliff running wildly and leaping over the treet tops. The shinigami clearly was in a hurry. Ciel hoped, it had something to do with a chance for Sebastian, not just with a sudden craving for breakfast and coffee. He looked around: All supernatural personnel had already left in their own secret and efficient ways. He could see only humans. And Lidia.

It seemed the Hawthorn Lady's last duty to collect the ritual equipment. She already carried the staff and the chalice, as she walked on the pile of ashes, turning her head searchingly. Ciel was sure that there was no point in looking for remains. But he watched her nevertheless, silent, waiting. Eventually, she stooped and picked up a piece of cloth.

She took it to Ciel, rubbing and shaking it underway in order to make it presentable. Still, it was singed and dirty with ash and soot. Sebastian's left hand glove. Of all things.

'He didn't suffer,' Lidia said, seeing the look on Ciel's face.

'He's not dead,' snapped Ciel.

'Yes, he is. And his revival depends on the shinigami.'

'On Grell? Then he's in trouble.'

Lidia cupped her hands around the tattered glove and breathed on it. When she opened her hands, the cloth had transformed into an eyepatch. It even was reasonably clean. She handed it to Ciel, giving him a strange look. A 'this looks like an eyepatch, but when it comes to Him, you're actually wearing blinkers, are you not?' kind of look.

He refused to comment, knowing that she would explain even if he didn't ask her directly.

'He asked me to do this for you,' she said. 'He said it was very important and he wouldn't be able to do it himself, since he would be gone by the time you started your journey home. He also said that you'd probably try and summon him, before he was ready to show himself to you again. In that case, he asks you to shut your eyes. He does not want you to get exposed to a sight that you would necessarily find unsettling.'

'How far-sighted of him,' said Ciel, cynically.

Lidia shrugged. 'You live a number of centuries, you learn how to plan five hours into the immediate future,' she said.

Ciel looked at the eyepatch in his hand. And he wondered.

* * *

><p>The demon arrived without a forewarning and almost without a sound. Or maybe the Undertaker was so absorbed with his book that he didn't notice. He looked up just in time to see Sebastian sink to the ground.<p>

Sebastian? It was hard to tell whether the thing that moved in the circle was human shaped at all. It had gathered too many shadows around its form, knowing that it was weak and trying to shield itself from the disturbing light. The Undertaker silently congratulated himself for perfect timing. The sunlight was fully on the white chalk drawings, and the marred creature in the circle hated every single photon of it.

'Fffeel, fffloor, under your fffeet,' the Undertaker chuckled. 'Oooh, I loved that bit!'

The demon tried to speak. 'Glad... you enjoy...,' he croaked.

The undertaker turned a page. 'I got the earl's Doomsday Book as soon as I learned that he was with you and Grell at this lunacy fair.'

'I hoped...you would.'

'I must say it was worth the while.' The Undertaker read and giggled silently. His shoulders shook.

Sebastian pulled himself and the remnants of his lungs and vocal chords together. 'Please,' he said, 'Don't want...be at mercy...Sutcliff.'

'Don't worry. I've received my payment, in advance and in abundance. If anything, you're at _my_ mercy.'

The demon seemed to slump a bit.

'And you're fortunate. You could've been stuck with William.'

The demon made a questioning sound.

The Undertaker shrugged. 'He's waiting for you in hell. After all, that's where you people usually turn up, having died in the May fire. But somehow I reckoned, you'd show up here. I couldn't be bothered with searching the hundred-and-something rooms, though. So I called you here. No way you can resist the tug of your own occult signature.'

'...know me...well.'

'Well enough to know that you wouldn't stumble, not in a thousand years, not even if I were to soak you in pure alcohol for three days,' the Undertaker said, grinning and leaning casually over Ciel's desk. 'But the idea and your performance made me laugh.' He turned the book around, pointing his finger at a certain line. ' "_We. Already. Have a contract."_ That's a scream! Wish, I could've seen our young earl's face! I didn't know you were such a natural talent.'

The demon cracked a smile. It looked rather painful. So far, Sebastian had held himself up very much like a human leaning on his elbows. He could no longer do it. Even a demon couldn't prolong a near-death experience infinitely, once the soul was gone.

There were hands holding him, and a voice talking to him.

'Come on,' the Undertaker said, unexpectedly gently. 'Let's lay you out.'

Feeling quite detached, Sebastian saw the room tilt and the ceiling come into view. The Undertaker moved him with professional efficiency, just as one would expect of him. There was something in his attitude suggesting that this was not the first time he tended a late Hawthorn Lord. Sebastian's plan had worked. All would be well.

Only one thing...

'Undertaker? The curtains...'

'I'm sorry. There was just that small chance of you appearing a mad, mindless, maim-and-kill-them-all spirit. That type can usually be thwarted by sunlight. Don't know why. Just glad, it works.'

'...other way...'

'Beg your pardon?'

'Draw them the other way!'

The Undertaker looked at the closed curtains, not sure whether he grasped the demon's meaning. 'The other way?'

'Five-thirty,' explained Sebastian, habitually fumbling for his silver watch and finding none. 'Time to draw the curtains. Open the windows. Then you wake the staff.'

He was amazed to hear the Untertaker chuckle. He had not been aware of making a joke. He was the butler of ... this household, even though he had to admit, he had some trouble remembering the exact names, including his own, and ... and ...

The sunlight dispelled his shadows, took away his cover. It didn't matter. There was another kind of darkness waiting, and he finally allowed it to engulf him.

* * *

><p>Ciel, Finny and May-Rin were not certain as to the direct way home. So, Lidia showed them. She didn't, however, return all the way with them.<p>

'If you follow this path, you'll be fine,' she said. 'I don't have to mention that this is a magic fairy path, do I? Do not stray, don't look back and if you think you're hearing strange noises or see pretty things that beckon you to follow, just ignore them.'

'What will you do now?' Ciel wasn't sure, why he asked. He couldn't have cared less.

'I'll return to my daily life, of course,' Lidia said.

'Meaning?'

She smiled enchantingly. 'Maybe you'll find out. Keep an eye out for me. Choose for yourself, which one to use.'

May-Rin, who stood with her arms crossed, gave a snort.

The noise of approaching hooves grew louder. Coming up the path, there was a black stallion. It carried a wet and bedraggled looking Viscount Druitt.

Ciel was not surprised to find that the fairy had taken advantage of the distraction and vanished, when no-one looked.

'Is that one of the things she told us to ignore?' asked Finny, anxiously.

'I don't think so,' said Ciel, sighing. 'I would love to. But he just doesn't look pretty in the least.'

* * *

><p>By the time Grell Sutcliff arrived, the Undertaker had dressed Sebastian in a new tail suit and arranged him in the position of a corpse lying in the coffin. Only the demon's hands resisted being neatly folded on his chest. He wanted to cross his arms in the manner of an Egyptian pharao. The Undertaker didn't think it a decent way for an English corpse to behave and he wrestled with the flailing arms. He hadn't counted them, but at times he was sure there were more than two to control. <em>If<em> arms they were. He wondered. But the look on Grell Sutcliff's face suggested that it was enough, if one of them found out for sure.

The red haired shinigami gasped. 'Is that - Sebby-chan?'

'No, it's his corpse. Hurry,' said the Undertaker, laying across the restive demon. 'How long, do you think, can he continue without a soul?'

'I'm sorry, but with someone as long-lived as him there was _a hell of a lot_ of recordings to check.' Grell pouted. 'And they were _dull_! I must've dozed off at some - '

'His _soul,_' said the Undertaker, reaching out his hand.

Grell produced a small red vial. He stepped forward, but something got between his feet, tripping him. The little red vial that held Sebastian's soul described a high arc.

The Undertaker caught it.

In turn, vicious tongs caught the Undertaker's fingers. They didn't draw blood, but they might at any given moment.

'Thank you, William,' said the Undertaker, calmly. 'But I've got him safe. No need for your death scythe.'

'You tricked me,' said Spears icily, holding fast. 'You told me, he would seek refuge in hell, when you knew he'd come back here.'

The tongs pressed down harder.

'Well,' said the Undertaker, 'again the old proverb holds true: Home is where the heart is.'

'The heart, you say?' Spears turned to the body on the floor, looking at it for the first time. 'He's a - _oh my goodness!_ What _is_ that?' He pushed up his glasses and then, out of habit, pushed them up again.

The Undertaker giggled. 'Obviously, none of you has ever seen one of his kind in their true shape before.'

Spears struggled for contenance, something that happened to him very rarely. 'So this is how this vermin normally - ?'

The Undertaker cracked up. He laughed and laughed, wiping tears from his eyes with his free hand. 'No, you fool,' he managed between giggles. 'He's burnt. And he's dead. And look - he's starved - and listening - and craving for you to bring to bear the death scythe.' He sobered up a little. The grin stayed on. '_The pain. The blood. He needs it so badly_.' The Undertaker's grin seemed to worm its way straight into Spear's darkest fears. 'Tell me, William. Have you ever fought a ravenous demon, whose soul has gone missing?'

'Grell Sutcliff!' Spears released the grip of his death scythe. He made a point in demonstrating that he clearly wasn't letting off because of the Undertaker's upsetting words. He let off, because he urgently needed the tongs to push up his glasses. 'I understand you volonteered for this job?'

'Did I? Er. Yes. I believe, I did.'

'Then do it,' William said, plainly. 'Incredible. You procrastinate like we're not short on personnel and snowed under with work!'

Unhappily, Grell Sutcliff approached the demon and the older shinigami. The Undertaker grinned, holding out the vial.

Grell found it quite safe for him to talk, because William was going on about danger allowances and safety at work.

'Is it really that bad?' Grell asked in a whisper.

'I don't know,' said the Undertaker. 'I have never fought a ravenous demon, whose soul has gone missing.'

'Oh – okay.'

The Undertaker watched Grell break the seal of the vial. 'Do you know what to do?'

'Putting a soul back in?' Grell's green eyes showed his surprise that someone should ask. 'It's like removing a soul. Only sort of backwards. And normally you can rely on the body to co-operate. See? No. Stop. Let me - _Sebby-chan_!' Grell slapped at the blackened claw that groped for the vial. He ended up wrestling the burnt limb, trying not to let it grasp his hair, screaming, 'I can't explain. You just do it. Watch me.'

The Undertaker whistled softly. 'That kid is a _pro_,' he murmured to himself.

Spears looked the other way. _A generous bonus,_ he decided, _was not enough to recompense his efforts._ A day off. That was the least. And he wanted it. Now.

* * *

><p>It took some persuasion to make the Viscount Druitt get off Ciel's black stallion. But eventually, he sat on the ground, shaking and dripping muddy water.<p>

'She took me by the hand,' he recounted. 'I couldn't let go. I mean, I wanted to, but I couldn't. She said that was, because at the bottom of my heart I was still a boy. Behaving like a foolish kid. And she said that she liked me because of that trait. I could stay with her as long as I wanted.'

'Under water?' asked Finny.

'Or I could turn into a flower, growing on the shore of her lake.' The viscount drew his soaked garments closer around his body. 'That was when I finally managed to break free and run.'

'I understand,' said Ciel. 'I guess, being turned into a frog was enough for one night.'

The viscount's eyes glittered. 'No, you don't understand at all,' he stated. 'I would have become a marsh marigold.' He gestured feverishly. 'A rose, yes. An orchid, yes. Even a lily - yes, yes, and three times _yes_! But a _marsh marigold_? No beautiful woman ever adorned her hair with silly yellow flowers that grow in the mud!' His temper even gave him the strength to stop shivering and get to his feet. 'I need to get to London. Right now.'

'To clean up and get some rest,' said Ciel, who felt the same.

'It's the first of May. There are festivities to attend. Ceremonies. And Oscar.'

'Oscar?' asked Ciel. 'What's an Oscar ceremony ..?'

'Wilde. Oscar Fingal O'Flaherty Wills Wilde. The journalist. I need to talk to him.' The viscount wiped his brow. 'He'll know what to make of the freak dreams I have to confide him.'

'Most likely, he'll make a story.' Ciel thought that the notorious, flamboyant dandy was just the sort of person, the Viscount Druitt would like to hang out and be seen with. He himself had read the shortstory about the 'Canterville Ghost', which had been published shortly after his absence and ... return to London. He had not really liked the storyline about the desperate ghost being pranked by the American kids. But he had devoured the part about the ghost needing someone to weep and pray and call upon the Angel of Death in his stead. And he had wondered, what he could possibly derive from it, maybe learn, in order to deal with his own predicament.

'You can take the horse,' he offered. 'I happen to know it belongs to the Earl of Phantomhive.'

'Can I accept the gift of another nobleman's stallion -?'

'But, yes, you must,' said Ciel, thinking that the alternative was to invite the viscount for breakfast. 'Kingdoms have been offered for a mount. Send it back to Phantomhive, when you're home.'

The viscount accepted, as if he were not standing in the middle of a forest, after a night of terrors and marvels. In fact, he seemed more than ready to believe that he had fallen asleep under a tree, maybe sleepwalked around a little and fallen into a puddle.

Ciel looked after him, as the youth spurred the stallion.

_Nothing,_ he thought. _You can't derive or learn nothing from any of them at all. Whatever these people, the viscounts and Lidias and Hesrabes do or think they know – it is merely a figment of the imagination. Dreams and cliché. It has nothing to do with a real demon haunting your life._

* * *

><p>Grell Sutcliff was feeling sick. Not just a little queasy, but ill. Nauseated, ready to turn his innards first upside down and then outwards.<p>

The Undertaker had decided that the earl's study was not the right place for their patient to rest and heal. William had made it clear that he wasn't going to touch the demon. And that he wanted to use up the overtime he was doing here. He was surprised, when the Undertaker produced an application form and signed it. (_'Here you go. But please, go now.'_)

So, William had left, a surprised, frozen, almost hurt look on his face, and they were on the move. Grell carried Sebby-chan's weight, and he controlled himself, wishing that he had more than two sleeves to wipe his mouth.

The Undertaker opened a door. 'This looks good. Put him on the sofa.'

Panting and retching, Grell dragged his burden into the room. He didn't see the books on their shelves, he didn't see the armchair or the bear skin rug, the cold fireplace or the shiny weapons on display. He merely saw the sofa and he focussed so hard on reaching it, he forgot to stop and bumped his shin. 'Ouch! That does it! I'm finished! I'm sick, and I'm tired and I'm not moooving another step!'

He dropped the demon on the sofa and slumped beside him. He had planned to sulk, but instead, he raised his head, alerted: A tiny hitch in the demon's breath was more sign of awareness than Sebastian had shown ever since the Undertaker had supervised the re-composure of the physical body and Grell had put the soul back in.

(_'It's dead,' William had said, pushing up his glasses. 'Let's dispose of it.'_

_'First of May,' the Undertaker had pointed out, staring at the demon's jelly-filled, sightless eyes. 'Let him catch his breath.'_)

A scarred hand that was almost as dark as the black nails reached up and touched the raven hair. It was re-growing fast, only the wanton strands that would lateron frame the pale face taking their time. Grell stood up, joining the Undertaker, who watched with a wide grin on his face.

(_'I'd love to,' William had said, the light reflecting on his glasses as he prodded the burnt mummy with his death scythe. 'But as you can see, he's not breathing at all.'_)

The Undertaker and Grell watched the demon, waiting.

Sebastian's eyelids lifted, and the eyes, though unfocussed, were auburn and perfect and framed with long, soft lashes that fluttered a little, then stayed open.

Grell gasped. The demon's eyes immediately moved in the direction of the sound.

'You look fine,' the Undertaker told him. 'You're doing fine. Just one more effort. Do you remember your name?'

'Sebastian,' the demon whispered. 'Sebastian Michaelis.' At the very instant he said the word, his expression changed. His eyes narrowed slightly, losing their glazed-over, vacant look. He cracked a smile, a triumphant smile, that seemed to say 'Well, that was that!', and stretched languidly. Thoroughly. Grell started to drool. Sebastian ignored him.

'Where's the young master?' he asked the Undertaker, who busied himself with the demon's left wrist.

'With his servants on his way home. This is the first time I'm actually taking a demon's pulse. Are you alright?'

'The young master ordered me to make my performance realistic.' Sebastian listened to the signals from inside his body. 'I feel fine.'

'These mornings, first of May, used to be much worse, before you guys found out about that potion,' the Undertaker agreed. 'In the old days, the late Hawthorn Lord would come around kicking and thrashing about. Nearby things and shinigami bones would go to pieces.' He smirked, seeing the look on Grell's face. 'I've known demons, who _screamed_ with pain for hours,' he half-whispered, in the voice people use for telling ghost stories to children. Grell shivered.

'It really _hurt_, back then,' Sebastian said, defensively. 'But today I feel fine. I'm not - ' He stopped and stared at the two shinigami. 'I'm not even hungry.'

'Well - ,' said the Undertaker, his smirk vanishing.

'Uh,' said Grell.

Both avoided looking him in the eye. Grell touched the tips of his index fingers together.

Sebastian sat up bolt upright. 'What did I do?'

'You must've smelled the souls all the time...,' said the Undertaker.

'_The souls?_' Images of Tanaka and Bard sprang to Sebastian's mind.

'And when we carried you past that door, you seized the opportunity to break it down and get them.' Something in the Undertaker's voice suggested, that he secretly added 'you conniving supernatural bastard'. Silently. Never aloud. But coming from the heart.

'What door?' Sebastian thought about grabbing Grell's collar and shaking the information out of his head. 'Will any of you _please_ tell me what happened?'

The Undertaker coughed, 'Well, it seems there were some dead bodys in the basement...unburied, their souls lingering...'

'There were - ' Sebastian's face turned pale, 'hog-goblins.'

'See? I thought he'd know about them,' said Grell to the Undertaker. 'I told you one of them went, "Oh no, not _him_ again!" '

'I don't think, shinigami authorities will notice five of them missing. But I guess we are all fortunate that William had already left,' said the Undertaker.

'Hog-goblins!' Sebastian groaned, clutching his stomach. 'Couldn't you have stopped me? What time is it?'

'Six-twenty. Why?'

'Great! The young master will be wanting his breakfast, and I'm dying of disgust!'

'My guess is that you're a little hung-over, after all,' said the Undertaker, who didn't exactly feel overly sympathetic. 'I didn't say it wasn't possible for you to get drunk. I only said that it didn't necessarily show so overtly. Anyway. If you feel you've got a state of life to lose, then our job here is finished. Grell Sutcliff? Let's go.'

Grell hesitated, hopefully. This body, albeit still scorched and sick, was quite another affair than the parched mummy, whose lungs Grell had needed to kickstart with his own breath, due to William pressing for results. It was his job, as everyone had pointed out to him, the one he had volonteered for, 'therefore please'...

_Aaargh, the revolting memory of those dry lips on his and the taste of smoke in his throat and nose. _

'Go gently,' the Undertaker had commanded, and Grell had swallowed his aversion and done his best.

_Gently, slowly, exhaling around a tongue that lolled like a cold, dead slug..._

Then Sebastian had started to cough, convulsively. For someone looking like something raided from the vaults of a pyramid, the demon had a surprising amount of soft, slimy and generally revolting things stuck in his windpipe. And Grell, who had been just a little slow pulling back could feel some of them _on his own tongue, _entering his mouth, some going as deep as his lungs.

_Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, vice versa_...

There was only one thing to do to make the memory remotely tolerable. Pile new memories on it. Good ones. Lots of them.

'Anything else I can do for you?' Grell asked.

The answer designed for this last stage of the Hawthorn ritual was a more or less polite dismissal of the helpful shinigami by the healing demon.

Sebastian said, 'Actually, yes, you can.'

Grell was always one to change the rules, as long as it was in his better interest.

'What's in it for me?' he asked eagerly. 'A real, juicy, _enjoyable_ kiss, maybe?'

'I think, you'll like it even better.' That was hard to imagine. But Grell listened.

And eventually, he agreed.

* * *

><p>+++End of Chapter 5+++<p> 


	6. The True Shape of Things

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, Grell and/or any other characters of the series. I hold no rights whatsoever to Kuroshitsuji/"Black Butler", and I do not make money from this.

* * *

><p>+++ Chapter 6: The True Shape of Things (or: "That crow keeps dropping cherries on my head.")<p>

'Home. At last.' Ciel quickened his steps and halted in front of his mansion's door. Since he could not be expected to do his own knocking, he ordered, 'Finny. May-Rin. Announce - '

Sebastian opened the door, before Ciel had finished his sentence.

Finny jumped. May-Rin made a small, squeaking sound. Ciel smiled a sardonic smile. He had never really believed that Sebastian would _not_ be there, had he?

Sebastian bowed. 'Welcome home, young master.'

'It's good to see you back on duty.' Briskly, Ciel walked past his butler. 'I am hungry. You can serve breakfast in the dining room.'

Sebastian bowed again. His smile was sickly sweet, even for his standards.

But it took him almost fifteen minutes to prepare Ciel's tea and scones. And he had not even ironed the newspaper. Or rather, he'd tried to and given up, having singed part of the classified section.

Ciel watched his butler fumble with the china. He watched him drop a scone and go down on his haunches to pick it up and put it back on the plate. Ciel broke off a morsel and ate it, watching his butler bite his own tongue, as he focussed on pouring the tea.

The tea was okay.

Not excellent, but okay.

His butler, however, was far from his usual form. At least, he was not tripping over his own feet anymore.

'Sebastian?' said Ciel, between sips. 'Do a hand-stand.'

'Y- young master?' The demon almost dropped the tea pot.

'That was an order.'

His butler stared at him, saucer-eyed.

Ciel waved his hand impatiently. 'Two words, Sebastian. I will hear nothing else.'

'Er...no problem?' Finally, Sebastian did as he was told. His hand-stand was perfect - but only for about two seconds. Then he seemed to encounter problems determining his center of gravity and, shrieking, crashed into the chinaware. He crawled on the floor, collecting the shards, wailing softly.

At this point, Ciel could have told Grell Sutcliffe that it was okay. He was no butler, and he'd never be.

Instead, he quickly said, 'Don't cut your wrists open just now. You can mend the porcellain later.'

'Mend it? But how could I possibly mend, er, I mean - yes. Sure.'

'Later,' Ciel repeated. 'Now, leave me alone. I have work to do.'

'Leave you. Yes. I'll leave you. Alone.' The Sebastian nodded eagerly and left, leaving the shards and the trolley. When he turned his back on Ciel, the earl lifted his eyepatch. It was only an intuition, inspired by Lidia's parting words that Ciel should choose for himself, which eye to use in order to spot her. In this case, he continued to see the familiar outline of his tail-suited butler. But shimmering beneath the dark shape, there was a bright image of crimson: the shinigami's red hair and red coat.

Ciel's marked eye, the one that had been touched by the demon, would not be fooled.

Nor would Ciel himself, who had not failed to see the evidence. He put his scone down on the plate, mumbling, 'Scones molded in the shape of skulls. How capricious.' He shook his head. Then he got up and entered the corridor. Grell didn't notice he was being followed. He was too busy, marvelling at his hands and touching his hair and his body. Ciel saw the shinigami shiver with pleasure. Obviously, Grell was envisioning a rather private meeting with the demon, whose shape he had assumed.

_Why would Sebastian do that?_ Ciel wondered. _Even if it is not _really_ him – the mere thought of Grell having his way with one's reflection is revolting._

Well, he would find out.

Grell took his time, but he eventually entered the western annex. Rooms in this part of the building had been designed and furnished to house the Phantomhive guests. They had been in frequent use while Ciel's parents had been alive. Now, the earl hardly ever walked in these corridors.

Grell Sutcliffe stopped in front of a certain door. He drew a deep, sighed and squared his shoulders as if to muster his courage, before making an unpleasant confession. Then he entered, closing the door silently behind him.

Sebatian had asked Ciel to avoid looking at him. He had said nothing about eavesdropping. Ciel put his ear to the keyhole.

'What took you so long?' That was Sebastian's voice, a little raspy maybe, but otherwise clearly recognisable. 'What's that stain?'

'I, er, spilled the tea.' That, too, was Sebastian speaking. Or rather, Grell Sutcliffe speaking with Sebastian's voice.

The real Sebastian seemed outraged. 'You were supposed to inform Tanaka! I didn't ask you to try and serve the young master's breakfast yourself! Just – tell – Tanaka!'

'So what? I'm a butler, too! Our young master didn't notice any difference.'

'Are you certain? _My _young master isn't stupid!'

'No. He's not,' said Ciel, deciding to get involved. 'And he's coming in. You hear me? I'm opening the door _now_.'

He saw an empty sofa and Grell standing in front of it, looking baffled. The cushions rustled softly. Something – a body - had crumpled them, but the weight had recently been removed.

'Young master,' said Sebastian's voice from behind the backrest. 'I apologize - '

Ciel cut in, 'Just tell me: Why?' He took another step into the room. He was relieved to find that Sebastian could talk and scramble over backrests. But the relief was overshadowed by righteous indignation. 'Why the masquerade? Why play hide-and-seek?'

'Right now, my appearance is not suitable for the young master's eyes,' said the bodiless voice.

'That is mine to decide,' said Ciel, surly.

'Unworthy of your attention, then.'

'His looks have seen better days, it's true,' Grell said, trying to be helpful. 'Okay, so he no longer looks like he's going to crumble to dust, if you stare at him too hard, but - '

'Where's the problem, Sebastian?' asked Ciel. 'This is not our first ‚First of May'. Yet, I never knew about your nightly activities. Just like any morning, you would come to my door, announce yourself and serve breakfast. You never delegated your duty to Tanaka before.'

'You never spent the night awake,' came the prompt answer. 'You never wanted your breakfast served at six-thirty.'

'Are you saying that half an hour makes all the difference?'

'That is what I am saying, young master. It's all about staying on schedule, and at my rate of regeneration, thirty minutes are plenty of time.'

Now, that even made sense.

'I see,' said Ciel. What point was there in fighting with a _backrest_, anyway? 'Well, I won't mess with your schedule any longer. I'm tired. I'm turning in.'

'Young master - ' His butler sounded genuinely distressed.

'Wake me for lunch. Oh, and I want _mousse au chocolat_ for dessert.'

Sebastian took a deep breath, courtesy of one self-sacrificing shinigami, 'Yes, mylord.'

Ciel left. But he did not close the door immediately. He listened. There were two voices of Sebastian, and they quarrelled.

'Wait! Where do you think you're going?'

'Why, preparing _moose on shockcola_, of course.'

'No, you don't! _I_ will - '

'You? You almost broke your neck going over that backrest. _Fffloor. Fffeeet._ Get my _driffft_?'

'Abandon my shape.'

'No. That wasn't the deal. You said that - '

'_Our deal_ was that you could walk around in my shape for one hour _after_ informing Tanaka and asking him to serve the young master's breakfast!'

'I haven't informed Tanaka of anything yet. Which means that, according to our deal, the additional hour hasn't even started.'

'Are you trying to get shrewd on me? _On me?_' There was a short pause, then, 'Let go of my spell!'

And the protest, 'NO!'

'_Mister Grell!_ I'm not going to repeat myself - '

'_LalalaLALA_, I'm not listening – '

Shaking his head, Ciel closed the door.

* * *

><p>Leaving Sebastian in Grell's custody, Ciel retired to his bedroom.<p>

It was strange, closing the curtains in broad daylight. But it was even more strange to do it himself. The window was open. Ciel closed it, noticing claw marks on the sill.

He got out of his clothes, remembering how he had tried to undress May-Rin without getting her naked. Looking at it from retrospective, it was almost funny.

Dreams came as soon as his head touched the pillow. Colourful, bizarre images flooded his mind and swept him away. Ciel surfed on the tide of his subconscious, re-living part of the previous night, but also making up new scenes, new creatures and new challenges. Hovering on the verge of consciousness, he enjoyed the wild machinations of an imagination, he had almost forgotten he possessed.

Then he realized that Sebastian wasn't in it, and he felt ill at ease. The feeling intensified. It became the sense of _a presence_. Someone or something was with him in his bedroom, watching.

The perception became more and more oppressive, as the intruder realized that the human was utterly alone. _Unprotected. Defenseless – are you scared, boy?_

Ciel woke with a start. He listened to his heart pounding, he felt his neck tingle. He moved over to the side of the bed, grabbed the edge of the mattress and leaned way over.

The shadows under the bed were impenetrable. Yet, they seemed to be driven by a conscious intent to stalk and haunt and induce fear in the occupant of the upper level.

'Hi, bogeyman,' Ciel said.

* * *

><p>Standing in front of his master's door, Sebastian took one moment to straigthen his cuffs and pull tight his gloves. Then he knocked - 'Excuse me, young master!' - and entered.<p>

And stopped in his tracks.

His master was hanging upside down over the far end of the mattress. His thin, naked legs stuck up in the air, counterbalancing the weight of his suspended body. His hands clutched at the bedsheets which were already beginning to slip.

Sebastian stared, wide-eyed.

_It's alright. Human male children will do things like that, _he reminded himself, and then, feeling a rare touch of panic at the sight of the impossible equilibrium, _How do they survive?_

'Young master!'

'Ah, Sebastian.' Ciel's legs waggled alarmingly, then he sat up. 'Guess, who's under the bed?'

Sebastian was in the middle of breathing a sigh of relief and not in the mood for games. His gleaming red eyes penetrated the shadows under the bed like laser beams slicing through fog.

'Well, hel-lo,' he said, amiably. The bogeyman whimpered.

Ciel's naked feet touched the ground on the other side of the bed. He padded over to a cupboard. A drawer creaked.

'Young master? What are your commands?'

'Sit tight. Both of you.' There was a rustle and a metallic click and the sound of a box being opened. Smell of burning wicker and a sizzling sound. Ciel's face appeared on the other side of the bed.

'Hey, bogey!'

A blinding, blue-white flash went off. Sebastian pulled back, hissing softly and squeezing his eyes shut. The bogeyman dissolved.

'What's brighter than bright?' Ciel grinned. 'The magnesium flash of modern photographic equipment. Good riddance, bogey.'

'Under your bed! You could've set fire to everything,' scolded Sebastian, blinking fiercely.

'Now now. Who of us could be heard, flaunting his penchant for pyrotechnics?' Ciel sat down on the edge of his bed. 'As soon as you've stopped seeing funny dots, help me with these buttons,' he simply said.

* * *

><p>After the traumatic events of the early morning, Ciel had felt that he never wanted to sit in the sun ever again. But the afternoon air was pleasantly warm and smelled of spring, and the earl decided to take his tea outside. The problem was that, like so often, he made that decision without communicating it to his servants. He simply proceeded to sit on the back porch, reading and waiting for his needs to be attended.<p>

May-Rin was the first to find him and set the ball rolling. By the time Sebastian had successfully tracked down his young master, the maid had already set the table.

She had not broken one single piece of china in the process. Ciel couldn't help but commend her.

'I would've served the biscuits as well,' she said, indignant. 'But that crow keeps dropping unripe cherries on my head. It's distracting.'

'A crow?' Ciel looked up, searching the roof. 'All I see is a gargoyle. Goolie? Is that you?'

_A silly question_, he told himself. After all, there were not too many gargoyles alive and bent on attaching themselves to his roof. There were even less gargoyles carrying a bundle on a walking stick. Goolie had used a yellow handkerchief with black dots and knotted the four corners around a treebranch.

'Master,' chirrupped the gargoyle, 'I came to say good-bye.'

'Will you come down here first?'

'Yes, but...' Goolie looked in the direction of Ciel's butler, who was occupied with the equipment on his trolley.

'Sebastian?' said Ciel, helpful. 'I think she's talking to you.'

Sebastian sighed and put down the tea pot. Then he took a step forward and opened his arms. 'Alright. Go.'

Goolie jumped without hesitation.

Sebastian caught her in his arms. Goolie's bundle swept Ciel's tea cup off the table. Using the claws at the end of her wing, she caught it safely by the handle. Sebastian raised his left foot and caught the saucer.

'Have you two been practising?' asked Ciel, as he plucked the cup off the gargoyle's claw. It would have been to much to say that not a single drop had been spilled. But there was enough tea left in the cup to marvel at the little stone creature's dexterity. 'Goolie. Don't get me wrong, but – I thought you wanted to be returned to your former state by the basilisks?'

'I wanted to ask them,' said Goolie, slipping down from Sebastian's arms. 'But then we started talking. About the nature of stones and the myths some of them inspired. Stonehenge. The white cliffs of Dover. I decided to go and have a look at them.' She adjusted her package on her shoulder. The cloth shifted and Ciel caught a glimpse of various brushes and a polish tin. Things, a well-groomed, travelling gargoyle would need. 'I want to go to the north and see the rocks that are said to be trolls, who were exposed to sunlight or heard the tolling of church bells on Christmas eve. And I want to go to the south and visit the fire mountains of Italy, Mount Vesuvius and Mount Etna.'

'What a minute!' Ciel shook his head. 'Isn't that concept a little foreign to your species? Travelling? Sight-seeing?'

Goolie winked her eye at him. 'Can't spend my whole life sitting on a roof, waiting for rain, can I? After all, a rolling stone gathers no moss.'

'The way you're talking - do you really want me to believe, you're no older than two weeks?'

'Two weeks of mobility. But three-hundred and twenty-one years of being attached to that roof. I have a lot to catch up with.'

'If, on your way to the south, you happen to pass by a small village east of the city of Munich - and the locals proudly present you a lake with three coin-shaped boulders poking out...,' said Sebastian, 'Do me a favour. Don't believe a single word of their story.'

'What's their story?' Goolie asked, curiosity peaked.

'They'll tell you that their ancestors got 'the devil' to erect a great building for them. They'll explain they had successfully made him believe it was going to be used as a house of sin, when in truth they planned on bringing in monks and founding a monastery. And they'll claim that when the devil found out, he destroyed what he had built so far and flooded the terrain and left in a fury, never to be seen in that vicinity again.'

'And?' asked Ciel.

'' 'And' what, mylord?'

'Well, you made it sound like you knew what _really_ happened. Please, enlighten us.'

Sebastian mumbled something. Ciel signalled him to speak up. Sebastian heaved a sigh and said, 'Beautiful night, full moon high in the sky, young folk swarming the shores of the village lake - it was a stone skimming contest.'

'_A stone skimming contest?_'

'My cousin won,' said Sebastian. 'He almost killed the Kelpie, though. Of course, the honour of playing the lifeguard was bestowed on me. _He_ couldn't be bothered to lose one term to his competitors.' He shook his head, grimacing, 'At that time, I didn't realize how lucky we were to get out of the water alive. Well, the Kelpie knew. She was grateful. Concussed and upset _and so very, very grateful_.'

'I, er, get your meaning,' said Ciel.

'Do you?' asked Sebastian, displaying an innocence that could not have been more out of place.

'Well,' said Goolie, happily, 'I'll be on the look-out for that village. Anyone you would like me to say 'hello' for you?'

'Definitely not,' Sebastian said curtly.

'Have a nice trip, Goolie,' said Ciel. 'If you get there, and they sell postcards – I'd really like to see that location.'

Sebastian knew how to make his eyes look murderous. But he was being ignored.

Ciel watched Goolie climb on the stone rail of the stairs and hop off it. Seconds later, she re-appeared, flapping her wings and gaining height. She soared over the trees which seamed the main garden path, thereby drawing Ciel's attention to May-Rin.

The maid was standing under one of the trees, wielding a broom and trying to scare away a big black bird. She hit a tree limb and flinched, as dust and pieces of bark rained down on her. The crow flapped its wings and hopped on to a higher branch.

Ciel put his hand on the cover of the book, he'd been reading. 'I've learned that Mephistopheles can assume the shape of different people and animals. He appears as a scholar and a poodle and at one point he even takes his contractee's place to talk to the student.'

'You're reading ‚Faust', young master?' It was impossible to divine Sebastian's thoughts.

'I heard you quote from the book. It's quite interesting. Some things _do _appear familiar,' said Ciel and continued, 'But reading about Mephisto's shape-shifting abilities, I find myself wondering: Your appearance last night – did I set eyes on your true shape, at last?'

'No, you didn't.' Sebastian smiled darkly. 'You could've derived as much from the fact that no one ran off screaming.'

'But – your eyes, and the suit?'

'Leisure wear. Superficial appearance, only.' The smile gained a vicious quality. 'My true shape goes...way deeper than meets the eye. The young master does not want to know just how deep. And what it can touch, and stir, and _do_ when it gets there. But I've seen it happen to the young master's kind, seen it more times than I could count.' Shivering, Ciel heard the demon's voice whisper in his ear. 'That's why I would ask the young master to close his eyes, anytime...'

'Stop it!' Ciel writhed and blindly struck out at the demon.

'Young master?' Looking up, Ciel found his butler two meters away, the tea pot in his gloved hands and an astonished look on his face. One second later, the amazement gave way to a dutiful smile.

'You're not fooling me one bit!' growled Ciel.

'Nor am I trying to. I'm serving you tea. I wonder - maybe you would rather take some Earl Grey, with little milk? You appear in need of something to drive away the residues of too little sleep and elusive bad dreams.'

Ciel put a hand to his spinning head. 'Where was I?'

'Quoting from 'Faust', part one, starting line 1806, I believe. Mephisto stating that, whatever you do to change your superficial appearance, in your deepest core you'll still remain, what you are. It seems to me, he does have a point. But I believe that you would rather discuss it another time.'

Ciel gave his demon a suspicious look that was countered with stoic calm.

Then something behind his butler caught his eye. 'Sebastian?'

'Oh dear,' said Sebastian.

May-Rin was still busy with the mocking crow. But her shape had begun to change. Ciel had seen her go to all fours, where she now crouched. She was making gargling noises. The seams of her dress split, revealing reddish fur.

Sebastian moved beside his master and, watching the maid, held his arm protectively in front of Ciel. 'She must have come into contact with...something at the Court.'

May-Rin used the tree to draw herself up. She had gained more than two feet in height.

'Come to think of it,' Ciel said. 'When I was looking for a safe place for her, I took her to Pluto. The 'canine section', remember?'

Sebastian's eyes widened. 'One of the werewolves bit her?'

Over at the tree, May-Rin's mouth turned into a teeth-studded muzzle and her ears grew pointy.

'There was a puppy,' Ciel explained. 'She cuddled it. I think, it nibbled her ear.'

'Oh dear.' It wasn't a sigh. It was a statement.

Ciel stared at the transformed maid, who was trying to jump high enough to pluck the crow out of the tree. The bird screamed bloody murder. It seemed on the point of actually forming words. Not very flattering words, probably.

'Stop them, Sebastian,' Ciel said impulsively. 'Both of them.'

Sebastian smiled dangerously. Silverware blades sprang up between his knuckles like so many switchblade knives. He looked at his weapons, then put them away again. 'No, one must not use silver on a werewolf. Unless – do you want me to kill May-Rin, young master?'

'Just stop her. So we can figure out a way to reverse this unfortunate affliction. Spare the bird, too. She's experienced in animal transformations. She might have an idea what to do about this one.'

'If you can make her co-operate,' Sebastian pointed out. 'Lidia has obviously classified May-Rin as a rival to my favour. Fairies are a jealous bunch.'

'I know. I'm ready to hear your suggestions, once you've fulfilled your first task.' It was a tricky assignment, and Ciel was aware of the difficulty. The werewolf was strong and quick, and it had the residue of a human's cunning mind. Already it had started to climb the tree by wedging its paws in some crack of the tree's bark and pushing upwards with its hind legs. Steadily, slowly, purposefully.

'Young master? I shouldn't expect May-Rin to present much of a challenge. But I strongly advice that we play it as safe as possible. If she should manage to bite me - '

'I see. Leisure wear's okay, then,' said Ciel, taking an educated guess as to his butler's meaning. 'But don't stab her with those damn spike heels of yours, understood?'

'Yes, mylord.' Sebastian set off, running a few strides, then changing to a series of handsprings. He tackled May-Rin feet-first, knocking the werewolf flat on the ground. He sidestepped the beast's slashing claws and started a new attack. A cartwheel was followed by a handspring, turning smoothly into a flic-flac. The crow took off in a flurry, but Sebastian caught it out of the air. When the werewolf attacked, Sebastian was airborne again. He hit the ground at a run, escaping the beast's claws by racing backwards up the tree and somersaulting off the lowest branches. The crow screamed its protest. It sounded like a girl. May-Rin screamed. It sounded like a howl.

Ciel watched from safe distance, as Sebastian started to use the bird to pummel the maid. Feathers billowed.

Lots of feathers.

There was something lurking at the heart of every darkness, something inevitable and invariable. And there were times when it clamoured for release in order to protect the whole.

_'You'll remain forever, what you are', _Ciel thought. _Body and blood. Life and soul. Man and beast. Yes, one has to give Mephisto his due. He does have a point._

He smiled, seeing the air filled with more dark feathers than the crow, albeit being a large bird, could possibly lose_._

'I've closed my eyes,' he called. 'Go for it, Sebastian!'

Judging by the noise, his butler obeyed.

+++The End+++

* * *

><p>AN: So, another story is finished. My thanks to you all, especially to those of you who reviewed. Your comments have been very constructive and helpful. I had a great time writing this down. (I felt happy when I finally got Ciel to sit on top of Sebastian. His constant interaction with ever-changing partners was trying, like 'Didn't you just talk to a vampire? So, now it's a Kelpie. What's a Kelpie? Ah, forget it, you've noticed the cat on your lap...' :) )Therefore, the process was unpredictable and full of crazy, funny moments. I enjoyed myself and I am so happy you liked it, too. Thank you for reading.

(Literary quotations/references: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, "Faust": Part 1, The Study)


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